Denouement
by Samantha Wil
Summary: William Van de Kamp was just an ordinary kid until a horrifying experience left him craving for truths that only his biological parents held. Years later, Will went from a rising star to the biggest joke the FBI had ever seen when he uncovered the X-Files
1. S1E1 Denouement 1

Title – Denouncement

Summary – Special Agent William Van de Kamp went from a rising star to the biggest joke the FBI had ever seen when he stumbled upon a century old mystery of alien colonization and government secrets.

_Author Note: I haven't written X-Files fanfiction since the show was on the air. Therefore, this story is not edited, because I don't have an X-Files editor. So please excuse any small errors you may encounter._

"**Denouement"**

Time was an enigma. It's measured in different increments, never quite in the same way as the next person. Universally, most time is told in terms of when Christ was born. Some may have a different way of telling time – those who take an important moment in their own lives and start counting the ticks of the clock that way. Three days since the death of a beloved pet. Two weeks since a nasty breakup. Six months since one was told they were dying of a terminal illness. Five years since one's last alcoholic drink. A decade since one's soul mate died. Eighteen years since one was abducted from their home by strangers who wanted to use them to end the world. Twenty-eight years one was put up for adoption. Eighty-three years since a government conspiracy started to rule the lives of society.

William Van de Kamp was fascinated by time, the impact that certain events had on people. Will told time from the moment he knew for a fact that he was different. All small children have imaginary friends, but Will had ones who saved his life and continued to help him even as an adult. Everyone knew about conspiracies and some even believed them, but Will lived and breathed by the plots. Some people believe in magic, but Will believed he possessed it. It was one event, one fractured moment in time, that unraveled his life's destiny: his abduction.

He was just eleven years old when he was snatched off the snowy streets of Wyoming. A black sedan stopped, strong arms pulled him inside, a needle in his neck, the drowsiness, the fear, the panic. He'd woken up on a cold floor in a bare room. His captors asked him to do things that he cried he didn't know how to do. Read minds, move things by just thinking about it, kill a man with his brain. The whole time, at least one of his three imaginary friends had stayed with him and told him what to do. They had helped him escape, helped him find his parents, and helped him move far far away from the bad men.

The men who abducted him were never found, and Will never saw them again. He told his parents everything, told them he could read their minds, feel their emotions, move things with his mind. He demanded answers, answers he knew that they could not give even before the three dreaded words escaped his father's lips. _You were adopted_. They could not offer him comfort or give him an explanation. Instead, they sent him to psychologists and hospitals. Soon, Will began to deny what he could do just to stop the tests and evaluations. After a year of endless doctors and psych wards, he was told that he was dealing from post traumatic stress disorder after his kidnapping and was fabricating everything because of his ordeal.

Except, Will knew better. He couldn't explain _why_ these things happened to him, but he knew he wasn't making up lies or false truths. Through the years, his journey of truth led him to the one place where he was positive he would find it.

FBI Headquarters

November 14, 2030

"Agent Brody, have you ever heard of an agent William Van de Kamp?"

The name rang a sense of familiarity in her mind. The agent was sort of a legend in the FBI mainstream. He had single-handedly caught more criminals while assigned to VCU for two years than anyone else in that time frame. He then moved onto criminal investigation for another two years where he was known to be one of the best profilers of his time. Suddenly, he dropped off the map and wasn't spoken about again. His name was only spoken in hushed whispers and his newer exploits were never spoken of. Special Agent Van de Kamp had basically ruined his FBI career because he joined some department in the bureau which was deeply frowned upon.

"Yes, I'm familiar with him," she replied.

Glancing towards the corner of the room, she saw a stiff and bulky man standing there. He looked military based upon his stance. Next to him stood a pretty brunette female with a cigarette dangling from his fingertips. The two people surveyed the meeting, outsiders looking in. Suddenly, Brody felt like a caged animal.

"Then you know he's found himself in something called the X-Files. You're a shining young star within the FBI, and I feel that you could deal with the X-Files in an appropriate manner."

"_Deal_ with it, Sir?"

Her attention suddenly snapped back onto the deputy director. Something about the way this meeting was turning out didn't settle quite right within Brody. The two figures standing in the corner only made that feeling intensify.

"You will evaluate his proceedings and help us determine how to resolve the issue." The deputy director cleared his throat. "You are dismissed, Agent Brody."

"Yes, Sir," she said numbly.

Standing up, she took one last glance at the mysterious people in the room before she exited. Her heels clicked loudly on the tiled floor of the Hoover building as she made her way down to the basement where Agent Van de Kamp was waiting for her arrival.

William Van de Kamp held one of the most impressive dossiers that Brody had ever seen. He had graduated top of his class at Yale University with a degree in psychology and then proceeded to graduate at the FBI Academy with high honors. Quickly, he rose within the FBI, some saying he'd be the youngest director within ten years time. Then somewhere from point A to B, he'd shattered all hopes of high power. Stumbling wholeheartedly onto a dumping ground of phony UFO sightings and urban legends, he had fallen faster than any rising star in the FBI's history. Some said he went insane after all the horrific things he saw during the course of his career. Others said he just couldn't stand the pressure of the expectations laid out in front of him. Either way, he was considered the biggest joke in the bureau.

Brody knocked softly on the door to the X-Files office. No one responded. Just as she was about to knock once more, a chair squeaking could be heard from inside. Footsteps crossed the room. A bolt unlocking and then another. Then, the door opened to reveal the infamous William Van de Kamp.

Even though his shoulders slouched forward, he towered over Brody. His floppy brown hair was brushed messily off to the side. A few days stubble graced his jaw. A small array of light freckles was splattered across his unusually pale nose and cheeks. His vibrant green eyes stared at Brody with little interest.

"Agent Van de Kamp, my name is Riley Brody. I'm your new partner," she introduced herself with her hand extended forward

"Who'd you piss off to get this gig?" he joked.

Ignoring her offered hand, he retreated back into the office and plopped down behind his desk which was cluttered with several mountains of folders and paper. The mess extended to the surrounding area of the desk. Pictures of every supernatural being and phenomenon covered every inch of the walls. A giant poster for a movie entitled "From Hell It Came" was tacked to the wall behind the sole desk. Perhaps what was most out of place in the room filled with paranormal paraphernalia was the case of classic baseball cards hanging from the plaster.

"I didn't piss off anyone, Agent Van de Kamp. I'm actually quite excited to work with you. I've been wondering if the legend lives up to the man."

"Call me Will," he said with a small smirk gracing his features as he gazed up at her. "Agent Van de Kamp is such a mouthful."

"Well, we should play equally then. Call me Riley."

"So, _Brody_, I gotta say I'm sort of impressed that they sent you down here to the toxic waste dump to work with me," explained Will as Brody frowned. "You were a straight 'A' student at Brown University – graduated in the top ten of your class with honors. You then went to the FBI Academy and graduated with more honors. Found yourself in VCU, celebrated quite a few victories and was on the fast track. Then, all of a sudden, you ask for a transfer out of VCU and they throw you to the dogs in the X-Files. Surely, Brody, you pissed off someone."

"You did your homework."

Brody crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the enigma that was William Van de Kamp. There was something about the man that was dark, twisted. It was as though all the secrets of the world were ones that he knew, that he held power that no one else imaginable could ever hope to achieve. He played his game shroud in mystery with a mask of indifference and sarcasm. His persona filled the room, and Brody found herself more than a little intimidated.

"If someone's going to come down here to spy on me, I might as well know their history and deep, dark secrets."

"What makes you think I've come down here to spy on you?" she snapped. "I'm an FBI agent just as you, and I would prefer to be treated with respect."

"Alright," started Will feebly, "I apologize."

The apology didn't do anything to settle the score in Brody's mind. The once thrilling mention of working with such an agent as Will was now replaced with regret. The decision to leave VCU was rapidly becoming painful and gaping. The people there were intense and focused but were also compassionate and friendly. It was just too hard to remain there after everything that had happened, to live with the mistakes that were made on her last case. The X-Files seemed like a breath of fresh air, a time to regroup and evaluate. It seemed like it would not be her escape but rather her undoing.

"Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials, Brody?"

"I don't believe but I don't disbelieve either."

"You can't have it both ways. You gotta have an opinion."

For the first time since their meeting, Will looked actually interested in her. There were no bitter jokes or indifferent remarks. His full attention was on her, the files lay completely forgotten on his desk.

"I believe that it is arrogant, in the least, to say we are the only living creatures in the entire galaxy, in all of space. That is to say that just because others may exist does not mean that they have contacted us or live among us. Honestly, I don't believe that they are here or are going to come. I do not believe that they are little green men who abduct people to perform horrifying tests. It's ludicrous."

"I don't believe they're little green men either," jested Will with a smirk. "I do believe they are among us. I believe that they have enrooted themselves into our society, planted themselves in our government. I believe they are slowly colonizing our planet, infecting it with viruses and enslaving innocents. I believe there are conspiracies that men before us have failed in every respect to stop because the power got to their heads… or maybe they didn't fully grasp the consequences of their actions. Either way, our very existence is in danger of being extinct."

In that moment, everything about the future of their partnership suddenly became crystal clear. His willingness to believe in government conspiracies would be what would unravel him and would be her downfall as well. There was no way that she could tear this man down, to demolish his very beliefs because higher authority requested it of her. She would not be able to live with herself if she helped them in the demise of William Van de Kamp, if she helped them crush a man to rid of a burden. Guilty by association never rang so true in Brody's ears.

"You believe aliens live within our government? That they… control our society?"

"Come here and lemme see your neck."

"Excuse me?"

"Lemme see your neck."

Taking a tentative step forward, Brody lifted her shoulder length, dark brown hair to expose her neck. Will got up from his desk and stepped behind her. His cold hands lifted the clasp of her necklace up as the other hand ran down her smooth neck. The very contact made Brody shudder.

"The good news is you're not an alien. The bad news is I've given you goose bumps." He chuckled softly before returning to his desk.

"You can tell based upon my neck if I-I'm alien?"

"Well, a certain type of alien at least. Hybrids, I think, who have bumps on the base of their necks. I'm not quite _that_ well versed in the differences of alien physiology yet."

If it had been any other situation, Brody would have laughed out loud at the context of the conversation. Aliens and government conspiracies were always possible but more often than not were proven false. Brody never really considered that the outlandish tales to be real. Although, she had never met someone who was so true to his convictions of the subject before either.

"Do you just go around looking at everybody's necks before you give them the time of day?" questioned Brody with amusement lacing her words.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were mocking me."

Will turned towards his computer and clicked away quickly. The projector on the ceiling flickered to life as an image of a dead body in a morgue was brought up. The body was male and face down on the examination table. On the back of the man's neck were two protrusions. The image disappeared and was replaced by a picture of the man on his back. On his chest was a bullet wound. Surrounding the wound was a metallic-like circle.

"This guy died from a gunshot wound to the chest," explained Will lazily. "When they pulled the bullet for forensics, they found that it was comprised of melted down magnetite. How good is your chemistry, Agent Brody?"

"Uh, magnetite is a ferromagnetic mineral – it's the most magnetic of all the natural minerals on Earth. I just never heard of someone crafting a bullet out of this."

"Mister Gunshot Wound was never identified. In fact, his body disappeared from the morgue the day after he arrived. The toxicology reports vanished into thin air as well. Everything was gone but these few pictures I have. What really gets me is that the coroner doesn't recollect any significant findings, doesn't note the bumps on the neck or the ring around the wound as anything out of the ordinary in his total piece of bullshit story – or. if you wanna get technical, his bogus report."

"Well, clearly this man died of a gunshot wound," reasoned Brody.

"Oh, no, see, I'm not doubting that. Even I can note the obvious cause of death as that. I wanna know what that ring is, what those bumps are, why the bullet was composed of magnetite, why the coroner denies any significant findings, why the body disappeared, why the toxicology finds were destroyed. This goes beyond a simply autopsy of a murder victim. Someone was trying to cover up this man's death, who this man was."

Will flipped through several more shots of the dead man including close ups of the projections on the neck and the metallic colored ring around the gunshot wound. Brody tore her gaze away from the screen to glance at her new partner. A smirk danced on his face, a glint shining wildly in his deep green orbs.

"Where are we going?" she questioned.

"The Mountain State."

Beckley, West Virginia

November 15, 2030

Will pulled into the parking lot of the local morgue. Cutting the engine, he turned towards Brody as though he was to say something. Thinking better of it, he hauled his tall frame out of the sedan and headed briskly to the front door without waiting for Brody. Immediately, he went up to the front desk.

"I'm Special Agent William Van de Kamp," he introduced himself as he produced his badge. "I need to speak with Doctor Conners."

"Uh, hold on a second. I'll go get him."

The secretary disappeared into a back room when Brody entered the building. She looked more than just a little upset that Will had taken off without her. Will didn't dare look at her, didn't dare reveal that he cared what she thought. She was sent to spy on him, to shut down the X-Files, to keep the conspiracies quiet. Maybe, just maybe, if he convinced her of what was really out there, she could respect his crusade and mislead her bosses.

"I hear you're with the FBI. How can I help you?"

An elderly man in a lab coat appeared. So this was the coroner who wrote down false findings and kept his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. Except, something about him didn't feel right, didn't feel human. Will's heart pounded in his chest and conclusions were jumping to his mind. He had spent his whole life trying to deny his instincts, deny what he saw or what he could do. It hadn't been until he came to the FBI that he allowed his intuition to roam freely, to guide him in his pursuits.

"Doctor Conners, you were the one who performed the autopsy on the John Doe who disappeared from the morgue a week ago, is that correct?" Brody took the lead.

"Yes, that's correct. The cause of death was a gunshot wound to the heart. From what I can remember, he was a perfectly healthy young man who was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"What about the bumps on his neck?" questioned Will.

"There was nothing irregular about that. Some people's spins are just more clearly visible than others through the skin."

"And the metallic color around the wound?" Brody asked as Will snorted in disbelief.

"Well, the bullet was made from magnetite. I've never quite seen anything like it before. Could have just been an allergic reaction from the metal. We'll never really know since I never got to see the final toxicology reports."

"Somehow I highly doubt that," commented Will. "I want to know your real findings, Doctor Conners."

"Sir, I have told you all that I have found in my preliminary tests. There was nothing extraordinary about the murder victim."

"Then where is the body? Why go through the trouble to get rid of the body? Can you answer me that?" he shouted.

"Will, stop," whispered Brody.

Her hand found itself on his arm. It was meant to calm him down, but it only enraged him more. Brushing her off him, he stepped forward towards the doctor with fire burning in his eyes. He wanted answers and not the runaround. There was an intense ringing in his ears, a warning to tell him to back down. His instincts were kicking in, telling him to turn around and not look back. Except he didn't think that he could just back down without answers.

"Will, let's go."

"I'll be back, Doctor Conners, and when I do, I want answers."

Will forced his legs to jerk backwards and follow Brody outside. The farther he got away from the doctor, the ringing seemed to lessen in its intensity. He was only vaguely aware of Brody questioning him, her voice harsh as she demanded what the hell that was about. There were no answers to her inquiries.

His mouth felt like a desert. His throat felt as though it were closing up. The ringing in his head was replaced with a dull ache. It always happened when he got too close to those hybrids. His whole body would react, multiple warnings flickering on deep in his core. He couldn't explain it.

"I wanna see the crime scene."

-

Brody hung back as she watched her partner investigate the motel room. A couple had been staying there under the name Robert Petrie. They were an older couple identified in their mid-sixties. The man had towered over his petite wife according to the owner of the motel. The woman was a redhead and the man a brunette, both of them had streaks of gray in their hair. The man had been friendly, joked about the World Series games last month. The woman seemed detached, almost cold, as she lingered behind the male.

"Was there anything unusual about the couple, Mister Davis?" questioned Brody.

Will tore through the motel room looking for clues. The drawers lay discarded on the floor, the sheets ripped from the bed. He was going above and beyond the usual call of duty detective work.

"You mean if anything screamed murdering psychos?" the motel owner asked.

"I wouldn't put it that way but yes."

"Uh, the guy asked about the mountains."

"What about the mountains?"

"Asked if you could just roam around on 'em or if you had to have a guide." The owner paused. "Why is he tearing the place apart?"

Will seemed frustrated as nearly everything was taken apart. It was as though he were looking for something specific, some little clue that only he knew about. Brody was baffled by the display.

"He's just… investigating thoroughly," she replied. "What else can you tell me about Mister Petrie and his wife?"

"You're way too young to remember, but there used to be a show called _The Dick Van Dyke Show _and the main character was named Rob Petrie. I found it a little odd that this fellow had the same name."

"It's a fictional name?"

Her attention snapped to the motel owner. So the murderers may have been using aliases from a television show that had aired over a half century before. Slowly, her gaze found itself back on Will who was examining the carpet in the corner of the room.

"Well, I suppose someone may have the same name. You never know. I just thought it was sorta funny after that guy turned up dead in here. They seemed like a nice, wholesome couple. You know, the husband dragging his wife on a vacation she didn't want to go on. It's a classic."

"So they were on vacation?"

"I suspect. Saw 'em getting suitcases out of the trunk of their car."

"Was it a rental?"

"I dunno. It was a sedan though. It was too dark to see anything specific about it."

Will pocketed something silver into his jacket pocket before standing up and making his way over towards his partner and the witness.

"Mister Davis, can you let us know if you see them come back here?" requested Will.

Brody gave her partner a questioning glare, but he just shook his head. The owner conceded. Will thanked him for his help and motioned for Brody to follow him out to the car. Once inside, he pulled out a silver tube and held it in front of his face.

"What is it?"

Will shrugged his shoulders. His finger grazed over a small button and a pointed metal stake shot out of the top. Both of the agents jumped back slightly. Brody had never seen anything like it before. Obviously, it was some kind of weapon, but she couldn't even give it a general name.

"They hid it under the carpet. I guess they didn't want anyone to find it," supplied Will.

"Will, that's evidence. You shouldn't be touching it."

"I'm not turning this in."

"Then you're withholding evidence. It's illegal!"

The blade retracted back into the tube. Will placed it back into his breast pocket before turning over the engine of the car. He drove through the streets of Beckley until he arrived at the motel they were staying at.

-

Will sat in his motel room going over the geological properties of the Appalachians. Magnetite was present in the mountain range. Never before had he gotten such a lead in these hybrids before. He found one, a dead one, and craved to know all the information that he could. It had been eighteen years before that when Will first laid eyes on one of these creatures when he was kidnapped. He could remember seeing the bumps on the base of their necks, feel the danger that pulsated through his body as a warning.

A swift knock on his motel room door snapped Will out of his musings. Rolling off the hard bed, he made his way to the front door. Peering through the peephole, he saw his new partner standing outside with her arms clenched around her stomach. He opened the door to allow her entrance.

"You okay?"

"I want you to look at something," she said in a rush.

She brushed passed him in just her pajamas. Looking white and sweaty, she breathed heavily as she picked up her hair off the base of her neck. Taking a step forward, Will peered down at the skin to see several small bumps.

"Did they get me?" she whispered.

He ran a finger over one of the bumps and chuckled softly. Brody twitched in anticipation. He pulled back the collar of her silk shirt to look down her back. More bumps were present.

"They're hives," he replied.

"Hives?"

"They're all down your back too. Did you eat something you weren't supposed to?"

"Oh my God..."

She whipped around, locked her arms around Will's waist, and buried her head into his chest. It really wasn't something Will as expecting, but he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and whispered that she was fine. Suddenly, she jerked back and looked up at her partner in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Brody. Don't worry about it."

For the first time, Will felt like he truly saw the real Riley Brody – a vulnerable young woman who was battling her morals against the requests of government officials who wanted her to destroy him. He felt sympathy towards her.

"Sit down."

He gestured towards his rumpled bed covered in folders, papers, and his laptop. Brody reluctantly made her way across the room and sat down upon the bed. Clearing her throat, she watched as Will sat down on the floor with his back against the bed.

"Will… do you honestly believe that our John Doe was really an… an alien-human hybrid?" Brody asked softly.

Will closed his eyes, memories of his worst memory from childhood washing over him completely. These men were strong, powerful, and definitely not human. He could remember being scared out of his wits, could remember that they didn't _feel_ human just like the coroner felt earlier that day.

"I was abducted when I was eleven," he replied.

"I know… I read it in your file."

"They were these hybrids. I remember the bumps on their necks…" Will trailed off.

A part of him wanted to tell Brody everything, tell her how they wanted him to do things with his mind… things that he could in fact do, things that lay dormant inside of him and only resurfaced when he needed them the most. Another part of him didn't trust Brody enough to spill everything despite the fact that it might change her opinion on this case, on him.

"Will…"

"They wanted me for reasons I can't even begin to comprehend. My parents didn't believe me. They took me to hospitals to get me evaluated. They thought I had some sort of mental disorder… because I was adopted and they didn't know my family history. They thought my biological parents were unstable and that's why they gave me up."

"What did these men do to you?"

Will twisted his upper body to look at Brody. She seemed genuinely concerned as her gaze clung to him unblinking. He felt so naked, so exposed. He hadn't talked about any of this since he was eleven or twelve. Don't ask, don't tell – that became the policy in the Van de Kamp household quickly after the whole ordeal.

"I don't remember much," he lied.

She didn't look like she believed him for one second, but she let it go. Will had never been so grateful in his entire life. So instead of spilling his sob story to her, he swiftly changed the subject.

"Tell me about yourself," he suggested.

"What do you wanna know?"

"Anything."

Anything was better than talking about his kidnapping. He didn't care if she told him about her awkward adolescent years or what was going on in her life now. Anything that didn't pertain to him sounded just wonderful.

"Um… I have a big brother named Dean. Married with one little girl. He's a high school history teacher. I also have a big sister named Blake. She's a nurse at a hospital. What about you?"

"Only child. At least… I was the only kid my parents adopted. I dunno if I have any biological siblings running around." Will relaxed against the bed. "Did you ever have an imaginary friend growing up?"

"I called him Frankie and told everyone he was a ghost who haunted our house."

A smile broke out on Will's face. He could hear Brody collapse on the bed behind him, a long sigh escaping through her lips. She was no doubt mortified that she told him about her imaginary friend.

"I had three," commented Will. "Their names were Byers, Frohike, and Langley."

"What? Where did you come up with those names?"

Will didn't dare tell her he didn't believe they were just figments of his imagination. He believed that they were real somehow. They had saved his life before, talked to him even until this day when he really needed someone. It was just easier to call them imaginary instead of letting anyone know he thought they were real.

"I had a wild imagination. I used to fight off garden gnomes too," he joked.

"Are you sure the gnomes weren't being possessed by aliens?" jested Brody.

The jab was meant to be playful, and Will let out a low chuckle. She was trying to break the ice, and he took it for that. He let her have her small victory of breaching the ironclad wall he built up around himself.

"Do you want to find your biological parents?" questioned Brody.

"I only think about it every day," he answered honestly. "I wonder what they look like… what their hobbies are… what their jobs were… I just constantly wonder about them."

"Have you tried to use your connections to find them?"

"Ha, it was a completely closed adoption. My mom said that they only thing they knew was that my mother was single when she gave me up. They asked about the father but were told he wasn't even in the picture. I was about ten months old when my parents got me."

"What about a confidential intermediary?"

"I tried. It didn't work. I mean, it was like all files on my biological parents just disappeared. Nobody can find a record that they even existed. I knew that it would be impossible to find my birth father on my own… but I always thought I'd find my birth mother."

Will got up from the floor and started to pace around the motel room. He wasn't much for emotions or sob stories. In fact, he didn't even know why he started to tell his pathetic tale to a woman who was sent to destroy his life's work. She seemed so sincere though, seemed interested in his thoughts and feelings. Part of him was screaming that it was a ploy to get him to trust her. Another part was telling her she was true.

"I'm sorry if I'm prying," she spoke softly as she sat up.

"My birth mother only requested one thing… she didn't want them changing my name."

"Maybe you have family name….?"

"Oh, yeah, because William isn't unique at all," he bit out.

"What about your middle name? Isn't it some sort of animal?"

"Fox. Yeah, I'm convinced my mother was a druggie or something if she named me William Fox."

"It has to be a family name. Have you ever tried looking at records of people named Fox?"

"It's useless, Brody. They obviously didn't want me, so I don't know why I care so much."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his three friends flicker into the room. Byers, Frohike, and Langley had come to pay a visit. Turning his head towards them, he noticed that they all seemed sad or something with deep frowns etched into their eyebrows.

"Will, you okay?"

Snapping his attention to Brody, he looked at her briefly before turning back to the men. They had vanished without a trace. He didn't have the heart to explain anything to her so he just nodded numbly before mumbling something about being exhausted. She understood immediately. She hoisted herself off the bed and walked towards him. Her hand ran down the length of his arm as she whispered, "Goodnight." Then she was gone, off to her own room next door.

-

The next morning, Will woke up Brody early and headed out towards the Appalachian Mountains to investigate. Will wanted to find the Petrie husband and wife duo more than anything. They knew of alien-human hybrids, knew how to kill them. He craved to know their knowledge, to have someone to talk to who understood what was going on better than he. The mountains, he hoped, would be the key.

"Will, it's six in the morning," yawned Brody. "Why couldn't we have waited a few more hours?"

Glancing over at his partner, he noticed she was freezing. Her hands rubbed together feverishly as she cowered into her jacket. Tearing his gaze away from her, he crouched down to study the mountain beneath him. He grabbed a few loose pieces of rock and placed them into his jacket pocket. When he got back to D.C., he wanted them tested for magnetite. Perhaps the Appalachians were where the Petrie twosome got their magnetite for their gun.

"Will, we have company," she whispered.

Half of him expected it to be Rob Petrie and his wife to collect more bullet materials. Except, it was man who instantly turned Will's insides around. The warning ring sounded throughout his head as he drew his gun. Brody followed suit.

"Sir, stay back and identify yourself. We're with the FBI," she commanded.

Will watched as the man kept his distance from the mountain as though he were afraid of it. Intuition told Will to shoot the man, antagonize him forward just to see what would happen. He was calmer than he was before with the coroner. Perhaps, it was the Appalachians that put him at ease.

"Haven't seen you in a long time, William," the man said.

Brody turned towards her partner, a burning question clear on her face. Instead of acknowledging her, he stared at the alien-human hybrid in front of him. He couldn't recall the face for the life of him. Perhaps it was one of his abductors.

Curiosity got the better of Will as he took several steps forward. His gun was still raised, pointed directly at the heart of the hybrid. His finger toyed with the trigger of the gun, itching to jerk backwards and allow the shell to dislodge itself from the barrel. Taking another step forward, the buzzing in his head intensified until he couldn't even think straight straight. His finger yanked back and a bullet went hurtling out of the handgun.

Brody gasped as the bullet hit the man square in the chest. He didn't seem bothered by the buckshot in the least. A snort escaped the man's thin lips as he advanced towards the two FBI agents. Will stumbled back until he tumbled onto his backside. The rocks dug into the palms of his hands.

"Stop!" shouted Brody as she fired a shot.

Her bullet did nothing to stop the man's progress towards them. His eyes were coldly staring at Will with a determined gleam shining on his face. Suddenly, the man just froze and grimaced. Slowly his whole body started to change until he was covered in a metallic-like substance. Suddenly, the man darted forward into the side of the mountain like they were being pulled together by a cosmic force.

Will tore his gaze away from the point of impact to look at his shocked partner. She had ducked to the ground at some point and was laying only a few feet away from him. Her mouth moved as though to form words but nothing escaped her ruby lips.

"Awesome, huh?" questioned Will weakly with a smirk.

"Wh-what happened?"

"I think an alien-human hybrid just died because it has a weakness to magnetite."

A small chuckle slipped out of Brody's mouth. Will slowly stood up, wiping his bloodied hands on his jeans. He made his way over to his partner and extended his hands to help her up. With a soft smile, she grabbed his hands into hers and allowed him to hoist her up.

"I can't believe this…" she whispered. "I can't even comprehend what I just saw…"

"Brody," he spoke softly, "you need to think about this in terms of what you're going to write in your report. They will destroy you if you start writing about this kind of stuff with an open mind."

Brody faltered, the creeping smile disappeared completely off her face. Nodding numbly, she took one last glance at the mountain before following Will to his car.

Arlington, Virginia

November 17, 2030

Will walked into his apartment feeling one step closer to the bigger truths that lay beyond common knowledge. He had watched a man die by magnetite, an element that he was just only beginning to comprehend. It was almost unbelievable that after all this time trying to find the aliens that kidnapped him when a kid he had finally found them. It was all thanks to the X-Files which gave him the perfect time and means to find cases that others would cast aside as nonsense.

The answering machine on his living room desk blinked brightly in the darkened apartment. Pressing the play button, a male voice filled the room asking Will to meet him in two hours. The man claimed he had information on his last case, about the hybrids Will was so desperate to figure out.

_Agent Van de Kamp has a very solid belief system, and I believe that he will not rest until he finds a denouement that is fitting to his quest for the truths he so desperately seeks._

Will shivered involuntarily at the biting wind. His hair blew back on his head to allow his face a clear shot to be assaulted by the bitter November air. His informant was late or quite possibly a no show. It would be typical if the guy wouldn't show because more often than not these so-called know-it-alls left him standing alone in the late hours of the night.

_Though there is no concrete evidence that Agent Van de Kamp's accusations are even remotely feasible, it would be in my good conscious to allow him to continue his work on the X-Files under a careful eye. I do not believe that he is a threat to himself or anyone else for that matter. He is simply a man of strong convictions._

"Agent Van de Kamp," a male voice called.

Will turned around and spotted an older man with glasses approaching him cautiously. There was no intuition, no thoughts, or feelings to help Will determine whether or not this man was there to help him or harm him. Too many times before had he met with informants that were unstable, delusional, and proceeded to act in a series of deranged behaviors. They were mostly phonies, UFO nuts, people who didn't possess any real knowledge. This man, however, looked grounded and stable. In the pit of Will's gut, he knew this man had information for him.

"My name is Gibson Praise."

_I cannot explain what Agent Van de Kamp and I witnessed in West Virginia while on the John Doe case. We were unable to retrieve any evidence that it was nothing other than a body snatching from a morgue. There were no leads, no explanations, no helpful civilians. There seems to have been no motive, no reason for that body to disappear. It is in my professional belief that the murderer(s) snatched the body and discarded it to avoid forensic evidence to be found that would incriminate him/her._

"You said you had information for me about the John Doe who died in West Virginia," Will commented to cut to the point.

"That John Doe was a military employee. If you check through records, you will come across his picture and dossier."

"Are you saying that the military didn't want this man to be revealed so they stole the body from the morgue and bought off the coroner?"

"I'm saying that a secret group of government men didn't want anyone seeing the body because he wasn't human anymore. He was made into what is called a Super Soldier. An ordinary man created into something extraordinary. The only way to kill a Super Soldier is by magnetite."

_We encountered a man whom Agent Van de Kamp claimed to be an alien-human hybrid. This man tried to kill us for attempting to get too close to the truth about our John Doe – who Agent Van de Kamp believes to be an alien-human hybrid as well._

"Why magnetite?" questioned Will.

"It's believed that it off sets a Super Soldier's iron levels and therefore terminates it. We've found nothing else that can kill one."

"We?"

_It is Agent Van de Kamp's belief that these alien-human hybrids can be tracked by protrusions on the back of the neck. There could be a number of logical explanations as to why these men had bumps on their necks. Except, I cannot explain how the man who attacked us died. One minute he was advancing on Agent Van de Kamp and myself; the next he freezes as his whole body begins to change into what appears to be a metallic substance._

"My associates and I," he replied. "My associates who killed that John Doe with the magnetite bullet."

"Who are your associates?"

_I cannot explain what happened next in rational terms. The man disappeared into the Appalachian Mountains. It was as though the two were magnets being drawn together. Although I do not agree with Agent Van de Kamp's explanation of alien-human hybrids, I cannot deny what I saw nor even begin to comprehend it._

"Fox Mulder and Dana Scully."

-

Heels clicked on a tiled floor lined with rows upon rows of filing cabinets. A brunette woman stopped in front of the B's. Placing her cigarette into her mouth, she freed her hands to rifle through the folders. Her fingers wrapped around the file that read _Brody, Riley A. _Taking one last drag of her cigarette, she dropped it on the floor and stepped on it. She then flipped through the contents lazily.

"What are you doing?" a deep voice questioned.

"We put her in this position based upon good faith that we have enough on her to ruin not only her career but her life," she responded coolly. "Except, I seem to remember reading about how Dana Scully didn't exactly follow orders when it came to Fox Mulder."

"You think she'll be as big as a problem?" The bulky man stepped out of the shadows and stood next to the woman.  
"I'm saying that William has dewy sensitive eyes and sad puppy dog looks. He'll break her soon enough and get her to follow him faithfully."

"He didn't seem to break you with his dewy sensitivity and long looks, Walsh," the man said in an amused tone.

She snapped the folder closed and cleared her throat. Placing it back into the filing cabinet, she pushed the drawer shut before she turned to look at the man.

"We should really update this filing system. It's ancient and impractical," she said calmly.

"You've already done the ultimate sin towards him, Walsh. Don't get all sentimental and gloomy now." The man smirked. "You're just a Benedict Arnold. Get used to your new role."

"Did I have a choice?" she snapped.

"There's always a choice. You made your bed, now lie in it."

* * *

End Notes: I hope you enjoyed the story. I don't know if I'll write another one that deals with William as an FBI agent or not. This isn't really my fandom anymore, but after seeing the new movie, I couldn't help but sit down and write this piece for the last two weeks. As I began to plot the story out, a whole bunch of mythology just came pouring out. Therefore, I included the mythology just in case I decided to write a follow-up. Although I would love to do a whole series of stories featuring William since I have a slew of ideas, I simply do not have the time or a motivating editor(s)/co-writer(s). All reviews are welcomed.


	2. S1E2 Archelaus 2

Title – Archelaus

Summary – After learning about Super Soldiers and the identity of his parents, Will starts to search desperately for answers.

"**Archelaus"**

There's a universal theory that heroes die young and become legends or live long enough to become the villain of the story. A hero does not star in a legend as merely a human who crosses through the veils of darkness to slay the evils of the world with only faith and courage on their side. No, heroes are bestowed a gift of great power at birth, or perhaps even conception, that enables them to conquer the demiurgic forces. All heroes are thrown outward to the malignant spheres to touch the darkness, to engulf themselves into its snarled hold. It cannot be helped nor stopped. The trusty hero begins to understand that he doesn't just battle the obscurity of the world but also battles himself. Thus, they will die along with their prey or they will become the very thing that they have hunted.

Perhaps, not all tragic hero legends have to end that way. Maybe all the hero needs is their other portion in life, their soul mate. She is the gem while he is the rough. She balances him out, tips the scales back to even when his arrogance raises to a perilous level. She is his constant, his touchstone. She keeps him honest, true, and just. With them together, the puzzle can be complete and the dangers waned into mythic proportions.

Before a hero's outcome can be determined, the call to adventure must be marked by a herald. A rite of passage etched in stone as a new dawn awakens. The familiarities of past life seem to be swept under the rug as the time to pass through new thresholds presents itself.

William stood there just staring at Gibson Praise. _Super Soldiers_. Now that they had a name, they seemed even more powerful and more real than before. In fact, just the name itself made an arctic chill run down Will's spine. Perhaps, what was more unsettling was that this man, Gibson Praise, worked with Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. The names immediately clinched at his chest, made it hard for him to breathe let alone think straight.

"F-Fox Mulder and Dana Scully?" questioned Will.

"They didn't want to give you up. Scully knew it was the only way to protect you."

It was too much. It was all too damn much. Will had been searching for his parents since he was eleven years old with some wild fantasy that they would be able to sweep away the dark cobwebs of his life. He yearned for them for years to secure their arms around his shoulders and tell him exactly what he wanted to hear – that he wasn't crazy and didn't need psychologist after psychologist. He needed them to tell him that monsters and aliens existed.

"Where are they?" the words slipped out of Will's lips as though he were a frightened child.

"I can't tell you that."

"You can't tell me or you won't?" he demanded.

His muscles shuddered beneath his skin. He couldn't control his shaking for the life of him. Every being of his body felt weak, downtrodden. The newest revelation of who his parents were was the biggest news he'd heard in a long time.

"They want to see you, William, but they're afraid that it might make matters worse for you."

"They're my parents!" his voice vibrated in the dead of the night.

Everything seemed to have been turned upside and he felt dizzy as though he'd just got off the Round Up or some other nauseating spin ride at some county fair. It felt like waves of anxiety, incredibility, and relief all washed over him at once. He couldn't separate his feelings, couldn't pinpoint one as true.

"I'll tell them you're okay," Praise said steadily as he took a few steps backwards.

"The hell you will!"

Rushing forward, Will's hand shot out and gripped the older man by the elbow. He wasn't letting Praise get away without telling him where his parents were – his parents who held all the answers to his screwed up life. Names weren't enough. He needed faces, voices, and personalities to go along with the insignificant etymology of their Christian names.

"I'll tell them you want to see them," Praise spoke calmly as he wrenched his arm from Will's grasp.

"Not good enough."

Will's jaw clenched tightly. Everything seemed to be slipping away from his grasp. The truth has never been so tangible before. He could nearly taste the small victory. Except this man wasn't budging, and Will slowly allowed his deep seeded doubts to fill his already fogged mind. His mind was a million miles away for only seconds. When he looked up to plead with Praise one last time, he had disappeared as though into thin air.

-

FBI Headquarters

November 18, 2030

Brody sat tensely behind Will's desk in the basement office of the FBI. The chair swiveled from side to side for the past hour and a half. For some reason, Brody expected Will to be a man who was always on time, impeccable, never late. Except, he was more than just a little late that Monday morning. He was officially fashionably late to work. When the two hour mark rolled around, Will stumbled through the door to the office looking worse for wear. The playful tease on the top of her tongue was swallowed back after taking one look at her partner. Dark smudges resided under bloodshot eyes. The familiar stubble graced hollowed cheeks and made his pale skin illuminate in the fluorescent lighting.

"Up," Will rasped out.

Brody jumped from the chair and stepped aside to allow Will access to his desk. Immediately, he booted up the computer and started to type away with lightning fast fingers.

"I finished the report on our missing John Doe and flying mystery man," commented Brody.

"Good for you, Agent Brody," Will spoke dryly. "If you're looking for a pat on the back, don't expect one."

She faltered slightly at the harsh words. She had spent her entire Sunday coming up with a report to file that respected the X-Files at hand but didn't make either of them appear to be crazy loons in need of a straightjacket. She had spent agonizing hours drafting a report that would have taken her an hour tops in the past.

"Don't you want to read it?" she inquired.

"I trust that you put in the report what you wanted to, Agent Brody."

The words held a bitter tone to them. He was acting like he was when they first met – uninterested and cold. Somewhere during their first case, Will had warmed up to her, told her about his dark past pains and tribulations. It seemed like all of that had been washed out the window and replaced with curtness.

"You know, Agent Van de Kamp, I don't know what to make of you," she said in a cool tone. Will merely just grunted. "One minute you're cold and the next you're hot. One second I think you might actually respect the fact that we have to work together and then the next you're acting as though I'm the bubonic plague. I'm trying to decide whether you're a Harvey Dent or if you simply have dissociative identity disorder."

He glanced up at her, his nose wrinkled slightly at the comparisons. Comprehension crossed his face, however, as he gave her a weak smile as though to apologize. He looked as though he were just barely hanging on. Honestly, he looked like hell warmed over.

"I don't flip a coin to decide whether someone lives or dies nor do I suffer from a psychological disorder," he said halfheartedly.

"I just meant that you… change so easily. One minute you're a perfectly decent guy and the next its like this switch flips and you're…" she trailed off.

"I met an informant last night," he spoke softly. "He claimed to work with my biological parents but he wouldn't tell me anything about them except for their names."

"So you're looking them up now?"

"Yeah, except their files are locked. I don't have clearance to view them."

Brody ran through her list of FBI contacts that she had who might have clearance to access the files. One named popped out in her mind. Cullen Faraday had been her first partner when she entered the violent crime unit. He'd been a senior member of the team and somehow round up with a rookie as a partner. Their partnership was brief, but he had always made a point to keep in contact with her as well as invite her to investigate the bigger cases.

"I might know someone," she told him.

"Do you trust him?"

A hopeful gleam shone brightly in Will's eyes as a wide grin broke across his pallid face. Cullen was never one to follow direct protocol when he could help it. If he could cut corners to save a life, he would damn well do it. He was so widely liked that he was never ratted out.

"I do. His name's Cullen Faraday."

"Cullen Faraday? Isn't he next to run VCU when Glockner retires?" he questioned with a deep frown.

"Yeah, we were… partners. I'm sure you already knew that when you read my file."

"Yeah, well, it said you worked with him before, but anyone who has ever worked VCU has worked with Faraday. I mean, he's a freakin' social butterfly."

Brody frowned. Will seemed dubious about the fact that Cullen would help him. Except, Cullen would give his right arm to help anyone he could. He'd easily risk his life for a fellow agent, for a complete stranger.

"Do you not like Cullen?"

"I never said I didn't like the guy. He's a nice guy, friendly, and eerily uppity for someone who works on violent crimes. I just don't think he'd do me any favors."

"Why?" she pressed.

"Faraday and I… we had this huge fight when I first entered the bureau. I thought we should have done something one way, he thought the other way. He was pissed that some second year rookie was telling him he was flat out wrong. We actually fought in the conference room in front of the whole team. He wrote a report about how I was insubordinate, not a team player, and should be considered to be a paper pusher. I mean, he grazed over the whole fact that his plan backfired and killed several people while mine would have saved more lives. You know, no biggie, right?" he said sardonically. "So, I transferred out of VCU because the guy was a dick with a capital 'D'. Went into criminal investigation as a profiler and never got a Christmas card from the guy."  
Crossing her arms over her chest, Brody studied Will's face carefully. Faraday was a good agent and a damn fine guy, but he was as stubborn as a mule. She could see the fight unfold in her mind and it wasn't a pretty picture.

"I'll tell him it's for me. I won't even mention your name."

"He knows you work with me, Brody," Will sighed.

"Would you trust me?"

The four letter sentence made Will cringe. He spun the chair away from her, focusing on the computer screen in front of him. The screen read "Dana Scully – Classified". It glared up at Will, taunting him. Tearing his eyes away from the screen, he picked up the phone and handed it to Brody.

"Go for it, Brody."

Taking the phone, she dialed the FBI switchboard and asked for Cullen's extension. She started to pace the room, the words formulating in her mind. Somehow, she felt as though she were betraying Cullen's trust in some twisted fashion.

_"Faraday_," a familiar voice answered.

"Cullen, hey, it's Riley Brody."

"_Riley, hello! How have you been?_"

"I've been great. I just got reassigned."

Brody turned around and looked at Will. She gave him a soft smile to let him know everything is going good. He fidgeted in his chair as though he didn't believe that she could pull this off, get the information that he desperately craved.

"_I heard. I'm sorry to hear you're working with Van de Kamp. He's very difficult to get along with. I hope he's not giving you too much trouble._"

"Oh, it's not so bad so far. Uh, look, Cullen, I called for a favor."

"_Name it and I will try to help out the best way I can._"

"I was looking for two files in the FBI database, but they're classified. I was hoping perhaps you had clearance."

"_I can try. What are the names?_"

"Fox Mulder and Dana Scully."

Fingers typing on a keyboard could be heard through the phone. Brody gave Will a thumb's up to tell him everything was fine. He leaned back in his chair. The drawer to his desk was wrenched open and a bag of sunflower seeds were pulled out. He immediately started to munch on the seeds.

"_Yeah, I got access to them. What do you say we go out for dinner, we'll catch up, and I'll give you a copy of the files?_"

"Dinner?"

Will raised his eyebrows in disbelief, his piercing green eyes staring intently at her face. His mouth hung open, a seed resting on the tip of his tongue. As though he suddenly realized that he was staring, he quickly crunched down on the seed.

"_Yeah, I'll give you what I can of the files. There are some parts that I can't access though. They need higher clearance, but I got this gist of Mulder and Scully for you though. So, what do you say, Rye?_"

"Uh, sure. There's a new Chinese place that just opened up in Georgetown. I'll meet you there around seven?"

"_I'll see you then_."

Brody hung up the phone and placed it back in its cradle. Will looked at up her with a goofy grin painted across his face. The whole situation seemed beyond amusing to him.

"Why do I feel like I'm your pimp?"

"I'll drop by your place after dinner, alright?"

-

Arlington, Virginia

9:45 P.M

Will sat on the floor of his apartment with an old movie from the 1960's playing on the television. In his hand was an old tennis ball. Leaning up against his couch, he bounced the ball on the floor so that it would hit the wall and then glide back to him. He'd been waiting for Brody to arrive at his place for over an hour. Honestly, how long could dinner actually take?

"Afraid this tea's pathetic," the man in the movie commented. "Must have used these wretched leaves about twenty times. It's not that I mind so much. Tea without milk is so uncivilized."

After what seemed like an eternity, there was a soft knock at Will's front door. Lowering the volume on the television to a dull hum, Will quickly made his way to the door. He glanced through the peephole to make sure it was his partner before jerking the door open.

"How was your date?" questioned Will.

"It wasn't a date," she said with a smile. "Don't you remember, Mister Van de Kamp, you sold me for the night to entertain a man just to get some files for you."

"Touché."

A deep chuckle escaped Will's lips as he stepped aside to allow her entrance into his apartment. The place was a mess littered with dirty socks, discarded sports balls, and stinky sneakers. He kicked his dirtied tennis shoes under the bookshelf littered with texts on Jung, Freud, Skinner, Piaget, Erikson, and Pavlov to name a few. Will liked to call it his psychology corner.

"Cullen didn't have access to all of the files under their dossiers. There were a select few that were locked even to him. Among them was Fox Mulder's criminal record to name one."

"He had a criminal record?"

"Apparently," she said tenderly. "Will, did you know they were FBI agents?"

That bit of information made Will falter. He knew next to nothing of his parents. To know they were FBI agents made Will feel a deep connection with them. It felt as though he was led to the FBI unconsciously because it was in his blood.

"You read their files?"

"No, but Cullen browsed through them. Will, he thinks I wanted these files because… because they worked on the X-Files division together."

Will could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Shakily, he stepped forward and snatched the files from Brody's waiting hands. Cracking open the first file, he saw a picture of a beautiful redhead with bright blue eyes gazing up at him. A lump caught in his throat. His _mother_. She was so different than his adoptive mother. Tossing the file onto the coffee table, he quickly opened up the other file. A dark-haired man stared up at him with an intensity that Will had never seen before. Sinking onto the floor, he saw so much of himself in Fox Mulder that it was down right creepy.

"Will…"

He snapped his attention up at Brody to see her lingering by the couch with a compassionate expression written clearly across her face. Suddenly, he tasted bitter tears in the corner of his mouth. He could hear his heavy breathing clearly in the nearly quiet room.

"I look just like my father…" he trailed off as he held up the file for Brody to take.

She took it without hesitation. Her eyes glanced between the picture of Fox Mulder to her partner on the floor. She motioned at the file, silently asking for permission to read. He nodded numbly as her eyes snapped to the dossier and started to read its contents. Turning to the table, he grabbed his mother's dossier and emerged himself into her life story as a promising medical doctor turned FBI agent.

Somewhere during the night, Will and Brody wound up on his couch as they looked over the thick files together. Around two in the morning, Will felt Brody snag next to him, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. His mother's file slipped from her fingers and landed on the floor. Will turned back to the file on his father and allowed Brody to sleep.

He never finished his father's file because he had dozed off sometime between a brief description of his father's disappearance, where most of the contents were classified, to the termination of his FBI career. The next thing he knew, it was morning. The television was still on the classic movie channel, but Brody was nowhere to be found. Standing up, most of Will's muscles cracked in protest as the toilet flushed down the hallway. Soon, Brody appeared in the living room with her clothes twisted on her frame and hair pulled back in a messy pigtail.

"'Morning," she said awkwardly.

"Coffee?"

A smile broke out on her face as she nodded. He motioned her to follow him into his sparse kitchen. He wasn't a cook; therefore, he didn't have a lot of cooking equipment. His cupboards were bare as well aside from some Ramen noodles, coffee grounds, and bagels.

"Uh, you want a bagel? I only have plain but I got some cream cheese in the fridge."

"Sure, that sounds… great, Will."

After setting up the coffee machine, he plopped two bagels into the toaster before making his way to his fridge. The inside was depressing, and he hoped that Brody hadn't seen anything. There was cream cheese, a case of beer, some expired milk, and a couple pieces of left over pizza.

"So, uh, I was thinking about looking for family members today," Will tried to sound nonchalant as he grabbed the cream cheese. "Maybe I have a biological grandfather or something who lives close by."

"Do you want me to come with you? For moral support, you know?"

Will glanced up at his partner who had settled herself at the small island in the middle of the kitchen. Her elbows were propped up on the surface, her face soft and compliant. He didn't want to go on his own to meet his biological relatives. It would awkward and just plain weird; however, he didn't have anyone else to turn to. His adoptive parents lived on the other side of the country, he alienated all of his friends and he had lost the respect of everyone at the bureau. Then there was Brody, eager and willing to walk into a strange situation with him when they had just met days before. There was some level of trust he felt towards her, but he quickly tried to push that aside. She was sent to destroy him, so he had to keep her at arms length.

"You don't have to," he spoke slowly as the bagels popped up.

"I don't mind, Will. I mean, I would just be at the office all by myself today then with nothing to do. Plus, I think you'll need some moral support."

"If you insist…"

-

Winchester, Virginia

Will pulled into the driveway of a white-picket fenced house with a giant porch on the front. His gut twisted inside of him, his left leg bouncing on the car mat. Shifting the transmission into park, Will twisted the key to cut the engine. He glanced over at Brody briefly just waiting for her to tell him it was the wrong house or to comment that it was all a bad idea.

"Well?" she questioned instead.

"So… Margaret Scully really lives here?"

"According to the phone book she does." She gave him an encouraging smile. "Come on, Will."

Brody was the first to exit the car. He watched her make her way up the driveway and onto the front porch. She looked back at him, her hands on her hips. Brushing his hair to the right, he hauled his tall frame out of the sedan and made his way up to the porch. Reaching out a shaky hand, he pressed the doorbell and waited anxiously.

The door opened to reveal a fragile looking elderly woman who appeared to be in her nineties. Her blue eyes squinted behind her glasses as she looked up at the newcomers in her doorway. Brody smiled warmly as she reached into her jacket pocket to produce her badge. She introduced herself as Riley Brody and gestured towards Will. His name caught in his throat and he didn't know if he should say his name was William Van de Kamp or William Mulder.

"Oh my gosh," Mrs. Scully whispered. "You look just like Fox…"

The breath he was holding escaped his lips as he offered a weak smile to his maternal grandmother. He stood there dumbly on the porch, not quite knowing what to do when Mrs. Scully stepped forward and pulled him with all her might into a warm embrace. She buried her face into her shoulder, her hands clenching the back of his blazer tightly.

"I thought I'd never see you again," she murmured against him.

Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around the frail woman's body. He buried his face into her salt and pepper hair as he glanced over at Brody to see tears in her eyes. A chuckle and smartass remark about her being a typical girl caught in his throat.

"Come inside."

Mrs. Scully pulled away but kept a hand on Will's arm. The hand ran down his limb and clenched his fingers lightly before tugging him along behind her. Brody followed the two and snapped the door shut behind her. Will followed his biological grandmother into the living room, his eyes scanning the array of pictures that littered the fireplace and end tables.

"Let me go put on some tea," Mrs. Scully said fondly. "Make yourselves at home."

Brody sat down on the couch while Will walked around the room to take in the family pictures. The fireplace was covered with pictures of what Will assumed was his mother's childhood. The pictures were old, yellowed slightly around the edges. Two boys and two girls – he immediately picked out his mother with the cropped red hair and tomboyish stance. His insides seemed to swell with excitement. He had at least one aunt, two uncles, and who knew how any cousins to go along with his grandmother.

"Will," Brody whispered.

Turning around, his gaze landed onto his partner who was holding a picture in her hands. She held it out to him with a sad smile. Stepping forward, he accepted the frame and looked down. He recognized Dana Scully and Fox Mulder right away. They were standing in front of each other. She was gazing up at him with love shining in her features. He was looking down at a small bundle of blankets in his arms – a baby, _him_. His father held his son awkwardly in his arms as though he didn't know whether or not he was doing it right. A boyish grin was plastered across his face as he gazed down at the baby boy.

Will couldn't understand how they looked so happy in that moment but give him up for adoption less than a year later. What happened for them to toss their only son aside, to hand him over to the welcoming arms of strangers? He loved his adoptive parents, but there had always been something missing in his life ever since he found out that he was adopted.

"Your parents loved you so much," Mrs. Scully said softly as she reappeared with a tray in hand. "Dana called you her little miracle."

"Why did they give me up?" whispered Will as he tore his eyes away from the picture.

"Dana wasn't much for communication. I think that the only person she really talked to was Fox." Mrs. Scully sighed as she sat the tray down on the coffee table. "Dana said you were in danger, that there were men who wanted to harm you. She said she couldn't protect you by herself and that you would be safer where nobody knew who you were. She said it was the only way you could have a normal childhood, a normal life."

"'By herself'? Where was my father?"

"Not long after you were born, Fox just disappeared one night. Dana said he was in danger, that he was putting you in danger. He was gone for about a year before he wound up in the area again. This was after Dana gave you up. Dana came and visited me, told me that Fox had been convicted of murder and was sentenced to death. She said he was innocent, that the supposed victim wasn't even dead. _They're trying to bury us, Mom_, she said. She told me that she and some others were going to break Fox out of prison and they were going to run away together. I didn't hear from either of them for about a year and a half. Then, Dana and Fox came to Virginia. She was working at a Christian hospital as a surgeon and Fox was in hiding. She asked me to watch him while she was at work, make sure he was okay. Dana was concerned about the long-term effects of isolation and his obvious depression. So I went to their house almost every day. A few years later, Dana was cornered by the FBI asking her to get Fox to help them on a case dealing with a missing agent. They let bygones be bygones. So when Dana was at work, Fox and I used to go out and run errands together."

She stopped, a small chuckle escaping her lips. Sinking down into the nearest chair, Mrs. Scully closed her eyes and seemed as though she were trying to relive the bittersweet memories.

"I remember Fox and I went grocery shopping one day. We saw a little boy who would have been your age at the time. Eight or nine, I think. He was a tall boy for his age with dark hair and eyes. I knew Fox was thinking the same thing as I was – that you would have looked like him. I asked Fox what he was thinking, and I'll never forget what he said to me. He said something along the lines of, _I'm thinking why I even bother getting up in the morning anymore, Maggie. They've taken everything from me: my sister, my father, my mother, my son, my life. All I have left is Scully, and I'm not even sure her heart is in it anymore_." Mrs. Scully forced a small, sad smile. "A few years later, they just vanished. They come and visit once a year, send letters every couple of months."

Will sat down on the couch, his knees too weak to hold his weight any longer. The picture of him and his parents was clenched tightly in his hands. His knuckles were slowly turning white, but he was too numb to feel anything.

"Dana was barren," she said suddenly. "She wanted nothing more than a child. When she was pregnant, she confided in me. She said that she had tried treatments to get herself pregnant, that Fox had been the sperm donor. It didn't work, and she had been devastated at the time. She found it ironic that you were somehow conceived naturally."

His head snapped up to look at his grandmother, disbelief slowly being written across his face. All the information was just too much to process.

"Why did they leave?" questioned Will softly. "They made a life together and then they just… vanished you said."

"I don't know. Dana and Fox never talk about it. In fact, they never talk about anything important."

"Were they married?"

"No, they never got married. They knew each other for over thirty years, had been lovers for almost the entire time, but the idea of marriage never seemed to cross their minds. After awhile, they wore bands so they wouldn't draw attention but they never got a marriage certificate or anything of the sort." A smile crossed her face. "I asked Fox once why they never tied the knot, made it official. He just laughed and said marriage ruins relationships."

For the first time since Mrs. Scully started talking about his parents, Will realized that Brody was sitting on the other end of the couch. Glimpsing over at her, he saw her looking empathetically at his biological grandmother. A part of him didn't want Brody to know his deep, dark secrets. He didn't want her to know anything about his family. So he used every fiber of his being to stand up and shoot his grandmother an apologetic glance.

"I, uh, thank you," he stumbled. "I – we gotta get back to D.C. I hope I can talk to you again… soon."

"How about this weekend? If you don't want to drive all the way out here, I'll come to you. We'll go to dinner and just chat." Mrs. Scully stood up. "I mean, if you work at the FBI, then you have a good hour and a half drive."

"Yeah, it is. I live in Arlington," Will commented as he scribbled his address onto a napkin on the table.

"Fox lived in Arlington," she replied distantly.

Will looked up at his grandmother, the pen poised over the napkin. He briefly wondered if he lived in the same apartment building but quickly pushed that thought aside. There was no possible way.

"Sounds great. Here's my address. I'll see you this weekend."

Mrs. Scully took the napkin in her hands. Stepping forward, she stood up on her toes to plant a kiss on Will's cheek. She pulled back, a smile gracing her features. She bid both Will and Brody goodbye.

-

Alexandria, Virginia

The drive back towards D.C. had been quiet to say the least. Will had seemingly been trapped inside his own mind. Brody sat in the passenger's seat, allowing her partner the silence that he craved. When he pulled up in front of her apartment building, she turned to him with no words. She didn't know what to say to him.

"Thanks for coming with me," he said hoarsely.

"Anytime, Partner," she replied with a grin.

Making her way into her building, her mind couldn't help but be fixated on Will and his past. The X-Files held little interest to her before. It was merely a waste dump for UFO nuts and telltales of monsters. Except hearing about Will's biological parents and their struggles, the X-Files held a new sense of respect for her.

Opening the door to her apartment, she noted the lamp on next to the couch. Sitting there was her big sister. A book was open, her eyes reading the contents.

"Did you break into my apartment, Blake?" questioned Brody as she shut the door.

"Mom gave me the spare key. She wanted me to check to make sure you weren't dead," she replied aloofly without taking her eyes off the white pages.

"Why would I be dead?"

"You missed Sunday brunch and didn't call. You know how Mom jumps to the worst case scenario."

The book snapped shut as Brody groaned. Every Sunday, the three Brody women would go out to brunch to catch up. When one couldn't make it, a call would always be made. Brody had been so wrapped up in her stupid report about the missing John Doe and the talk of alien-human hybrids that brunch slipped through her mind.

"A call wouldn't have sufficed?"

"Nah, I would much rather just hang out in your lovely apartment all night waiting for you after I spent all day at the hospital," Blake replied sarcastically. "Mom wanted me to see with my own two eyes that my little sister didn't have a scratch on her."

"Mom's paranoid," Brody whispered as she shrugged off her jacket.

"Lemme guess. Your new partner is gorgeous and you wanna get all hot and bothered with him." A smirk graced Blake's features.

"Is that all you ever think about? Sex and boys?"

"Ouch, Rye, where'd your sense of humor go?"

Brody sighed and shot her sister a rueful look. She knew what was coming, knew exactly what Blake wanted to know – every single detail about Will. It had happened before with all of Brody's other partners. Blake would want to know everything about them and meet them. It was as though her sister was obsessed with the idea of knowing every aspect of everyone's life.

"I'm sorry. It's just… I'm stressed," Brody said softly.

"I talked to Finn-"

"You what?"

Finn Ryder worked in the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI. They had become quick friends when she joined the bureau and had found themselves stumbling halfheartedly into a disastrous relationship. Of course, Blake had to stick her nose in her sister's romantic exploits as well.

"He said this guy you work with," Blake continued with annoyance lacing her words, "is _dingo ate my baby crazy_. His words, not mine."

"Will is not crazy!" she objected. "Now, Finn, on the other hand, is just meddling like someone else I know!"

"Excuse me for giving a damn about your life," Blake snapped. "Look at you. You like dingo boy, don't you? I mean, come _on_, Rye, you gotta admit that you get attached to people way too easily."

"Will is my partner and I respect him," she defended. "He's not crazy. He's just…"

… Broken would have been her word choice, but she knew that Blake wouldn't understand the concept. Her big sister was naïve when it came to people being emotionally broken. The concept was foreign to her.

"Intense," she decided to say.

"Rye-"

Before Blake could finish, there was a knock at the front door. Holding up a hand to tell Blake to hold her thought, Brody went to the door and looked through the peephole. Two middle-aged people stood outside – a man and a woman. Brody didn't recognize them but assumed they were a couple in the building complex, so she opened the door.

"Can I help you?"

The man rushed forward, knocking Brody to the ground and rolling her onto her stomach. Blake screeched and the woman intruder told her to be quiet. Brody tried to buck the guy off her but was failing miserably. His calloused hand grabbed the collar of her shirt and pushed it down to reveal her neck. A finger trailed across the base of her smooth skin before the weight was lifted off her back.

"Check the other one," the guy demanded.

Brody twisted to face her sister, telling her to let them check. The brunette woman walked towards Blake with a gun out and proceeded to check the back of her neck. Once satisfied nothing was there, she stashed the gun away.

"I thought Will and I came to an understanding that I was human and all," Brody commented dryly as she stood up.

"You gotta be kidding me!" Blake exclaimed. "They're with dingo boy?"

"Blake, please, just leave."

"I can't leave you alone with them!" she protested.

"Blake, leave. _Now_."

Her sister reluctantly grabbed her coat from the couch and slowly made her way to the front door. Snapping it shut behind her, Brody rushed over and locked the door. She then turned around to face the man and woman who invaded her home and nearly assaulted her.

"William didn't send us," the woman said carefully. "My name is Monica Reyes and this is John Doggett. We are friends of Dana Scully and Fox Mulder."

"Oh my God," Brody sighed. "When does the plot ever not thicken?"

"We had to check to make sure you weren't one of them," Doggett said calmly, "for William's sake."

"Yeah, well, Will already gave my neck the pat down."

"He did?" Reyes questioned slightly surprised. "He knows more than we thought."

Brody ran a tired hand over her face. The last thing she wanted was to have a cryptic conversation about alien-human hybrids and government conspiracies. The thing that bugged her the most was that these two didn't just go to Will. They had to come to her for reasons she couldn't even begin to comprehend.

"Will lives in Arlington," Brody supplied.

"We know," Reyes replied. "We've been watching out for him for Dana and Mulder."

"Let me guess, he doesn't know you two exist?"

"Dana didn't want us contacting him. She thought he would be safer without knowing too much."

"But when we heard he got a new partner, we had to check you out," Doggett finished. "Plus, he's been getting too involved with the Super Soldiers for anyone's liking."

"Super Soldiers?" questioned Brody. "Okay, Unsolved Mysteries, I really don't think that you should be telling me any of this. The one person who needs you, the one person you should go to, is Will."

"He needs _you_, Agent Brody," Reyes stated in a serious tone. "These men asking you to spy on him, to destroy his work on the X-Files, they are all conspirators in something so big that nobody outside of their circle can fully understand."

"I think you need to leave," whispered Brody.

Unwillingly, Reyes and Doggett made their exit. Once the strangers were out of her apartment, Brody leaned up against the door. Thoughts of conspiracies clouded her mind. She couldn't even think straight. She knew she didn't want this to be her life – a life filled with shadowy informants who only planted more doubt in her mind. Except, the very prospect of honor made her hesitant of asking for a transfer. At an early age, her father had instilled onto her two principles that now ruled her life: always tell the truth even if it hurts and never do anything that would be disrespectful to herself or others. By keeping true to those values, she would have enough honor to hold her head up high.

* * *

**Important Notes**: I have decided to write a series of small "episodes" (so far, twelve are roughly plotted out for season one) in the Denouement series leading up to a "season finale". Based upon view count and reviews, I will determine whether or not to continue with the series. If I feel that the series isn't being read, then it is fruitless for me to spend hours upon hours crafting new plot points and develop the characters. If I am to continue at all with the first "season", I'll need someone to contact me as an editor. I simply do not have the time to write and attempt to edit my own writing. I often miss my mistakes while editing my own work because I read everything correctly in my own head because I am omniscient when it comes to the tales.

Some of you may have noticed this series is heavily influenced by Joseph Campbell's "A Hero with a Thousand Faces". I immediately saw the connections of William being a tragic hero six years before when he developed his supernatural powers. That is the primitive step in any tragic hero. Therefore, the series will follow in Campbell's tragic hero plotline since his book has been inspirational to so many authors before me.


	3. S1E3 Faust

Title – Faust

Summary - A small town suddenly starts to thrive while its inhabitants start to drop like lambs to the slaughter.

"**Faust"**

A woman who appeared to be in his mid-thirties ran through a dense forest. Her breathing came out in harsh, jagged breathes as she hurriedly brushed aside the limbs of the trees. Legs moved as swift as a cheetah, barely avoiding rocks, twigs, and dirt mounds scattered across the woods floor. Scratches and scraps littered her arms and legs, bubbles of blood seeping on her fair skin. Her pace was dying, her breathes coming out in a hacking cough. One fatal mistake was made. Her tennis shoe slid under a knotted log, and she went tumbling to the ground face first with hands shot out in front of her.

"Please, no no no no no!" she cried desperately. "Not yet! Not yet!"

A howl vibrated through the night sky and ominous snarls emitted from the brush. The woman crawled feebly in the dirt, brown patches smearing on her white dress. She scrambled away as though her life depended on it. Her legs and arms jerked weakly, her body swaying dangerously from side to side. Then, jaws clamped down on her ankle as white, hot, blinding pain shot up through her leg and flowed through every vein in her body. She could feel the piercing teeth dig into her skin, ripping her muscle, and connecting with her bone. The howls continued to fill the otherwise silent air as the woman blacked out.

-

FBI Headquarters

November 20, 2030

Brody rushed through the bureau in an attempt to get to the office on time. Once inside the elevator, she dug through her briefcase for her cell phone only to see that she was already five minutes late. Groaning, she punched the basement button with her thumb before slouching back against the cold metal wall. It only took one event to cause a snowball of effects to emerge – the two unwanted visitors who had caused her a sleepless night.

Thoughts throbbed in her mind, jumbled up into piles so big that she couldn't sift through them. Her heart pounded in her ears at the very thought of telling Will who had come to visit her last night. How could she even begin to explain that two people who had been friends with his parents came to see her and not him? She could already picture the look of betrayal contorting its way upon his pale face, hurt flowing through his transparent eyes. Everything seemed to be slipping through her fingers like sand and she had only begun her work on the X-Files.

Trust was a hard thing to come by when it came to William Van de Kamp. It seemed like his initial impulse was to trust but then the weight of the past would crash into him and greedily plant seeds of doubt. His trust was like tug-of-war, a never-ending psychological battle. He would be warm and friendly to her one minute. The next minute, it was like a Freudian slip would cause memories to bombard him and the callousness to appear. Brody could understand his hesitation to trust people. Hell, if she had been kidnapped at the raw age of eleven, she would have a hard time putting her faith into humanity.

The elevator doors opened with a soft _ding_ to reveal the hallway littered with boxes that lead to the X-Files office. Brody suddenly felt like a dead woman walking as she allowed her legs to move her towards where Will was most likely waiting for her. Twisting the doorknob, Brody peered into the room to see Will pouring over a file on the desk. As though sensing her presence, he looked up with a smile gracing his features.

"How do you feel about seeing some dead bodies first thing in the morning?" asked Will as though he were a kid in a candy shop.

"I'm just glad I already ate," she replied honestly.

"Party pooper."

"I'm sorry that rotting bodies in a morgue isn't my idea of a good time," she countered with a smirk slowly working its way upon her face, her fears of telling him slowly disappearing.

"You gotta learn to live a little, Brody."

He chuckled, a boyish grin radiating on his face. Turning his attention to the computer, he clicked the mouse a few times. The projector flickered to life and most likely displayed a dead body onto the screen. Brody walked fully into the room and gazed up at the picture. It was indeed a gray and still body of a woman. Scratches were sparkled across her upper body and legs. Large gashes were dug deep into her flesh.

"In your medical opinion, tell me about the deceased based upon looks."

Brody glanced over at her partner, arms crossed over her chest. It was as though he thought this was some sort of warped game that the two of them could play. With a sigh, Brody decided to play along even though this wasn't her idea of fun. Studying the deceased, she quickly made her assumptions of the woman.

"Well, in my completely non-professional medical opinion, I would say that she died from an animal attack - a large dog, a coyote, or perhaps a wolf."

"The coroner agrees with your theory. Tell me, Brodsters, how old do you think that lovely lady is?"

Raising an eyebrow, Brody thought the game was starting to get a little ridiculous, but she decided to continue on humoring him. Honestly, it was the least she could do for chickening out on telling him about how this Doggett and Reyes had invaded her apartment, assaulted her, and checked the back of her neck to make sure she wasn't some kind of hybrid who was going to kill the son of their friends. Then again, she never really got the chance to actually _tell_ him anything. Will had instantly and enthusiastically grabbed her attention with a dead body.

"Thirty-five," she guessed lazily.

"Ugh, Brody, you're completely in the arctic."

She turned towards her partner in disbelief. There was no way that the woman could be much older or much younger than thirty-five. Even through the bite marks and scratches, the woman was easily identifiable.

"How old is she?" Brody gave up.

"Ninety-two."

Brody let out a scoff as she turned back to the photo of the deceased. There was no way that the woman was over forty at the most. Her face was smooth with only faint laugh lines gracing her features. Her brunette hair didn't look dyed and wasn't thinning. Her body didn't seem frail. She looked like a normal, healthy woman in her thirties.

"I don't believe it."

"According to her birth certificate she's ninety-two," Will pointed out.

"There must be some sort of mistake."

"There's a big difference between the numbers 1938 and 1995, Brody."

Opening her mouth to retort, Brody found herself at a loss for words. There was no explanation she could give to justify a possible mistake on a birth certificate that came directly from City Hall. Turning back to the screen, Will switched the slide to showcase the wrist of the victim. On the flesh was what appeared to be a burn mark that Brody couldn't quite make out since scars from a bite made it difficult to see.

"What do you think it is?" questioned Will.

The mark seemed to have a defined shape to it and she swore she could see the number six etched into the flesh. There was no way that it could be a burn mark. Tilting her head to the right, she studied the spot and figured it was some sort of symbol.

"A tattoo perhaps?"

"A tattoo that all the victims shared?"

At this, Brody snapped her attention to her partner. There were multiple victims? He hadn't mentioned anyone besides the woman who had aged considerably well. She started to wonder about the other victims. How were they tied together? Were they all well-preserved for their age? Were they all women? Had they all died from seemingly an animal attack?

"Okay… what is it then?"

"A diabolical mark," he said seriously.

"Please don't tell me the next words out of your mouth are 'Malleus Maleficarum'."

"'Hammer of the Witches'? Brody, you make my insides tingle."

"So if we're not going on a witch hunt, what are we doing?"

"I'm thinking more along the lines of dude in red with pointy ears and a pitchfork."

A chuckle escaped her ruby lips. When she saw that Will wasn't laughing but instead had a very sober look plastered across his face, her sniggers died on her tongue. Clearing her throat, she glanced back at the symbol on the woman's wrist once more before turning to her partner.

"Will, tell me you're not suggesting that the devil did this."

"If the shoe fits," he replied softly.

"So… what, you're saying that this woman sold her soul to become young and beautiful again and her death is a result of… Satan collecting his dues?"

"A Faustian Pact, Brody. Never read _Doctor Faustus_ by Marlowe?"

"Uh, I've heard of it."

"Maybe you've heard of Robert Johnson. He was a blues songwriter back in the 1920s and 1930s. Had songs like _Hellhound on my Tail_, _Come on in my Kitchen_, and _Cross Road Blues_. It was said he practiced hoodoo and summoned the devil in order to sell his soul so that he could become a legendary bluesman."

Brody's lips formed a thin line as she gave her partner a hard glare of incredibility. She knew he believed in extraterrestrial life to the point of veiled government conspiracies. That clued her in to the fact that he was open minded, willing to believe in even the smallest of things that held some form of truth to them. That didn't, however, prepare her to hunt the devil himself.

"Small town – literally in the middle of Bumfuck – had a population of roughly a hundred over six years ago is now a thriving metropolis. The place started to flourish not long after the mayor was sworn into office. Corporations built headquarters, real estate was prospering, tourism was up, even a Hollywood movie was shot there. I mean, damn, Brody, this place literally rose up from the dust and became the fastest growing city in centuries."

"Let me guess, our mauled woman is from this town," commented Brody dryly.

"Yeah, she is. She's the latest victim in a string of five dead bodies in or around this town. They all died the same way, all had the symbol on their wrists, all had miraculous luck and fortune."

Will stood up, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. Shrugging the coat onto his shoulders, he dug into his pocket to reveal two airplane tickets. He waved them in front of Brody's face with the most dazzling smile he could muster.

"Last year an international airport was even built. Talk about good fortune."

"I would say so," she replied. "Tell me about the other four victims."

"So one sold her soul for youth, another sold his soul to become a preeminent lawyer, another sold her soul for her husband who was days away from death when suddenly he was cured of all signs of disease, one sold his soul to become literally an overnight multi-billionaire, and another sold her soul to become a famous actress."

"What about the mayor who made this town a flourish metropolis? I was certain you were going to say he sold his soul as well."

"Actually, I think he's our next victim, and if my calculations are right… he'll be dead in two days time."

-

Desdemona, Colorado

Will stood at baggage claim while Brody went to rent a car. It was remarkable to him that this town had gone from one of the smallest towns in America to being the fastest growing city in a matter of nearly six years. It was absolutely incomprehensible to him. He knew that there had to be something paranormal or supernatural at work, and he was determined to figure out what. His adoptive mother always said that if he was going to dedicate even five minutes of his time to something, then he should hit it out of the ballpark.

Driving through the city of Desdemona, Will couldn't help but think how much like New York City it was: skyscrapers, horns blaring, expensive boutiques, multi-billion dollar stores, and complexes everywhere. Apartment buildings were sky high, taxis were literally bumper to bumper, and there was even the wafting smells city air.

The mayor's office was huge and covered in white marble. The architecture looked like something out of an old Roman Empire movie with large crafted pillars and high arches. The building seemed out of place in the otherwise big city vibe that the metropolis emitted.

Upon taking one glance at the mayor, Will knew everything he needed to know. He had wealth ingrained into his very bones with custom made suits and lavish décor. Will was inclined to believe that the condition that the mayor was in wasn't his usual state. Perspiration accumulated on his brow, the collar of his button-down drenched straight through. His tie hung lazily around his neck, too long and messy. Beady eyes shifted between the pair, a mask of guilt written clearly across his greasy face.

"Mister Mayor, we have reason to believe your life is in danger."

He ignored the glare that Brody shot his way for including her in his assumptions. His theory seemed to prove even more right because the mayor's face paled instantly at the words. The sweat started to cascade down his face, his hand reaching to loosen his tie even more. A forced chuckle escaped from underneath his damp mustache.

"Why would you assume that?"

"The recent deaths in the area. They all died the same way, didn't they?"

"What Agent Van de Kamp means is that he believes there seems to be certain aspects of these deaths that may relate to you," Brody spoke as though she were talking to a small child, words picked cautiously with impeccable care.

"Wh-what _aspects_ are these?" the mayor squeaked.

The mayor leaned back in his chair, his fingers wrapped tightly around the armrests. His knuckles were faintly turning white. It was obvious this man was attempting to keep his cool, try not to farther on suspicions that the two agents might uncover.

"Good luck, Mister Mayor. The previous five victims had a run with good fortune about six years ago. That's when you were elected mayor and literally raised this city out of the ashes, correct?"

"So you're saying that some sort of serial killer is-is killing people who had a run in with lady luck?" the mayor questioned. "I thought these deaths were an animal attack?"

"Mighty fine coincidence wouldn't you say? This animal attacking five people in a metropolis… where on more than one occasion broke into a locked home."

"What do you want me to say, Agent Van de Kamp?" the mayor whispered. "I don't have any information for you."

"If you think of anything that might be helpful, please contact us. We know you have a very busy schedule, so we won't take up anymore of your time," Brody spoke softly as she handed him a business card.

Will turned towards his partner, disbelief written across his features. They weren't done asking questions, weren't even close in the least. There Brody was, taking over the investigation. Nodding towards the mayor, he followed his partner out of the building. Once in the parking lot, he grabbed her by the elbow and jerked her to face him.

"What the hell?" he demanded.

"This man, whether he made a deal or not, isn't going to be forthcoming. It was fruitless to press him on the manner. Didn't you realize that with every question he seemed to be better at covering up… his nervousness?"

"That man _did_ sell his soul! Didn't you see his body language?"

"Will, stop it. Just stop it. You are acting like this is personal for you."

He faltered, a lump forming in his throat. He didn't really know what he expected when he stumbled across the case on the late night news. Some part of him thought that perhaps he could cheat the devil – find out information on his parents and the truths of aliens but at the same time avoid a lifetime of damnation. Late at night, it seemed like a fantastic plan. Now, he seemed like he was grasping at imaginary strings. The whole thing just seemed plain idiotic.

"Let's just go visit the family of the first victim, okay?"

Brody nodded, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly in a half-hearted smile. As though sensing his sudden shift in mood, she said nothing. Will appreciated that more than he was willing to tell her.

-

Harding Residence

Brody knocked lightly on the mahogany front door. Silently, she shot a look towards her partner to tell him to _play nice_. His last display at the mayor's office was just the tip of an iceberg of erratic behavior. Will kept those around him guessing, and Brody didn't particularly enjoy that attribute.

The door opened slowly to reveal a frail looking woman. A handkerchief was clenched in pale hands to most likely dab at the tears that had flushed her cheeks and reddened her nose.

"Mrs. Harding, I'm Agent Brody and this is my partner Agent Van de Kamp. We're with the FBI and would like to ask you a few questions about your late husband."

The woman looked slightly taken back but allowed them entrance into her home. The place was decorated so exquisitely that there was no doubt in Brody's mind that Joseph Harding had owned and operated a multi-billion dollar company. There were large area rugs that covered the hardwood floors. The furniture was solid wood and the style Victorian. Except, the thing that put the furnishings out of place was the thick layers of dust covering almost every inch of the surface as well as the discarded tissues kicked under the couches and chairs.

"What do you want to know?" Mrs. Harding whispered.

"Mrs. Harding, can you tell us about your husband's business affairs?" requested Will.

The woman looked dismayed by the question, a deep frown etching into her forehead. She cleared her throat, her arms crossing over her chest. Brody felt a surge of sympathy pump through her limbs.

"What does that have to do with my husband's death?"

"He became an overnight success," Brody said gently. "For that, someone could have been… jealous or bitter. Is there anyone who could have wanted to hurt your husband?"

"The police said Joe was killed by an animal. Ar-are you saying that's not true?"

"Multiple people have died in the exact way as your husband, Mrs. Harding. We're merely keeping our options open," explained Will.

"No one would hurt Joe. Everyone loves him. I mean, Joe's the kind of guy who takes the redeye when going on a business trip so he can tuck our girls in at night. He takes the earliest flight home so we can have breakfast as a family and he can drive the girls to school. He gives generous Christmas bonuses and has a very flexible management style. Everyone loves my husband."

Brody glanced over at her partner who conveniently ignored her. A man who loved his family as much as Joe Harding couldn't possibly sell his soul for money. Brody didn't care what Will's logic was. There had to be some sort of animal on the loose, a rabid dog or a vicious wolf. It was the most reasonable explanation for the deaths. The luck was just a coincidence – just pure, simple luck.

"Was your husband acting oddly before he passed?" pressed Will.

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe he was looking over his shoulder a lot? Or, perhaps, he was more worried than usual?"

"He runs a multi-billion dollar company and has three young daughters. He's always worried!"

"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Harding," interrupted Brody because she just couldn't take seeing the woman become so distressed.

Will shot her a look but said nothing. He nodded towards the widow and gave his final condolences before following Brody out of the picturesque townhouse. Brody tried to keep her cool even though she _knew_ they shouldn't have visited the widow. Hell, they shouldn't even have taken the case! There was no case, no X-File. A little voice in the back of her head told her she was using hindsight bias in the situation, but she chose to ignore it.

"A man who loved his family that much wouldn't sell his soul to get rich, Will," Brody snapped as she wrenched the passenger door open.

"No, Brody, don't you see? He loved his family so much that he always wanted to give them financial security."

Brody plopped down onto her seat and slammed the door shut. Will eased in next to her, twisting the key in the ignition. He glanced over at her, his eyes pleading for her to talk to him. When she refused to say anything, he fumbled with the seatbelt and shifted the car into drive.

"Loving parents always want their kids to have it better than they did. My dad… my dad worked in a small business carving handcrafted wood pieces. My mom's a preschool teacher. They loved their jobs, you know, but they were struggling paycheck to paycheck. Then when I was kidnapped and they spent thousands upon thousands of dollars on shrinks and doctors… we were basically drowning in financial ruin," explained Will quietly. "I never saw it at the time, because I was so pissed off at them for not believing me… but they were suffering in an entirely different way than I was. My dad's dying of cancer now. He tells me every time I talk to him that he's proud that I went to college and made something out of my life. I never had the heart to tell him I'm the most unwanted FBI agent at the bureau and that people above me are tirelessly trying to fire my ass."

A forced chuckle escaped his lips. Brody glanced at him, saw the raw pain and guilt shining in his emerald eyes. She wanted nothing more than to reach out to him, pull him to her chest and hug him long and hard.

"You know, I was one of those rebel teenagers. I raised some hell during my teen years. I smoked, drank, and even tried some drugs. Luckily, I never got caught so I was able to actually be accepted to the FBI. I just wanted to piss my parents off, you know, for lying to me or whatever. I would tell them that I wish they had never adopted me because they didn't understand me. I hated them so much all through high school. They always tried to support me though… and I know that they would sell their souls to protect me."

"Will…"

"Don't. I just want to leave it at that."

-

Omicron Ceti Hotel

Will sat in his hotel room with his laptop out and sunflower seeds by his side. On the screen was a website dealing with hoodoo. His eyes scanned the pictures – crossroads, hellhounds, and legendary soul-sellers. The tales fascinated him. In fact, all urban legends and century old stories enticed him to the point of obsession. Of course, the alien telltales were what interested him the most.

There was a knock on his door. He called the person in and wasn't the least surprised to see that it was Brody. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she was dressed leisurely in a t-shirt and jeans. Will had never seen his partner look so casual.

"You really should learn to lock your doors," she commented cheekily.

"Nobody but you visits me, Brods."

"I didn't com here to lecture you about safety, Will."

"I figured as much."

Will snapped the laptop shut and placed it on the end table. He motioned for Brody to take a seat with him on the bed which she did so hesitantly. She cleared her throat and found interest in a piece of imaginary lint.

"You might have been right about Harding."

"How so?"

"I looked at his medical records. He was dying of prostate cancer. He was diagnosed six years ago, a week before his company suddenly struck it big."

"Are you agreeing with me?"

"I'm not saying that he sold his soul, Will. I'm simply stating that it's another suspicious tidbit to wrap your brain around."

"Thanks for that, by the way. It's not like my brain doesn't already have enough to process and figure out," he said lightly.

"Will, say you're right hypothetically," she said slowly. "He would want to make sure that his family was financially secure before…"

"He kicked the bucket?"

"I wouldn't have put it that way but yes. Goodnight, Will."

A soft smile broke out across her face. She patted his knee gently before getting up and leaving the hotel room. Will stared at the door, a sudden breeze of loneliness washing through him. His eyes trailed towards the laptop where sites of crossroads and deals called to him. Rolling off the bed, Will shoved his feet into worn loafers and grabbed his blazer that had been tossed aside onto a chair hours previous.

He drove outside of Desdemona limits and into a lesser populated area. As soon as he could, Will got off the main roads and onto dirt ones. The sedan bounced around to the rhythm of bumps and rocks. At the first fork in the road, Will cut the engine and stepped out of the car.

Standing in the middle of the crossroads, he glanced in all directions wandering how it worked. There was no set legend that told how to summon the devil. So he stood there, his eyes darting towards the direction of the smallest of noises in the darkness.

"A cute guy like you shouldn't be out here all alone," a female voice said behind him.

Will turned around to see a beautiful woman with flowing dark hair standing there. The bureau issued gun resided between the waistband of his jeans and the flesh of his back. A small surge of comfort flowed through his veins to know he had a weapon in case anything turned south.

"A gorgeous gal like yourself could meet the wrong people out here," replied Will.

"I can take care of myself."

"So the devil is a girl?" he commented with a smirk. "It sure does make sense."

"Who says there's only one devil? Who says I'm even a devil at all? I could be a witch, a sorcerer, a genie in a bottle, or even one of those aliens you're so fond of, William Mulder – oh, or should I call you William van de Kamp? I don't know which one you prefer."

Will felt as though his heart was about to burst out of his chest cavity. He wished he had drug Brody along, brought her for back-up or even moral support. This devil – or whatever she was – was one piece of work. She made his insides flop around like a fish flapping helplessly on a sandy shore.

"How do you know my name?"

"Call it mind reading or intuition or anything you want to, Mulder. I know why you came here. You wanna meet your biological mommy and daddy who gave you up to complete strangers. You know I can give that to you. Just say the words and we seal the deal."

Will had never been so tempted in his life. The forbidden fruit was being dangled in front of him, calling out to him like a siren. He was tempted to pick the apple, tempted to finally get all of the answers that he had craved since he was eleven years old.

"Tell me what you are first."

"I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you. Your poor, pathetic life, Mulder, has revolved around you being adopted. You know how many people were looking for you? The miracle boy. Then they found you in 2012 all naïve and comfy in your fake little house with your fake mommy and daddy in your fake little life."

"They were my parents whether or not they conceived me."

"Yawn. Why are you so hell-bent on finding Fox Mulder and Dana Scully then?"

Backing away slowly, Will knew he had to get out of there. He couldn't stay and let this woman – this _thing_ – taunt him any longer. He couldn't listen to her coiling words. Even though he saw the things she's accomplished, he didn't know that he had it in him to sell his soul.

"You came to me, Mulder, not the other way around. You remember that."

He dashed. His legs jerked under his body. Once at the car, he wrenched the door open and slide in. As he backed up, the woman stood in the middle of the crossroads with her arms crossed over her chest and a twisted sneer on her face. He spun the car around and drove back to the hotel with thoughts of what ifs and had beens clouding his mind.

As he pulled into a parking space, he noticed Brody leaning against the building with a sober look. When she saw Will, she kicked off the side of the hotel and walked towards her partner.

"Will, where have you been?"

"I just needed some air. What's up?"

"The mayor's dead."

"What? I was off on the date?"

"No, he committed suicide. His wife found him a little over an hour ago. He put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. No claw marks, no bites, no attack."

"He didn't want the hellhounds coming for him, so he ended his life before they could."

"Hellhounds?"

"I've done some reading."

Brody nodded, her arms wrapped around herself in an effort to keep the bitter November air away. Will stood next to her, his shoulder bumping hers. There was an urge to wrap an arm around her shoulders, pull her close to keep her warm. Except he didn't for more reasons than he could count. So he settled with shoulder-to-shoulder contact because he just needed someone close to him.

"If you could sell your soul for anything in the world, what would it be?" he whispered.

Will gazed up at the stars. He had his chance, had the choice to find his parents once and for all. His damn morality didn't allow him to make the deal, to sign his very essence off to an eternity of fire and brimstone. The thought ate away at him. His parents were so close and yet they slipped through his fingers.

"I would sell my soul for a Klondike bar," Brody jested.

Tearing his gaze away from the twinkling sky, Will saw a bright smile dazzling his partner's features. A chuckle escaped through his lips.

"Seriously, Brody, what would you sell your soul for?"

"Honesty. Truth." Her gaze fixated upon the night sky. "We live in a society riddled with lies and deception that sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating beneath it all. For once, I would like a breath of fresh air in the toxic atmosphere."

Something twisted in Will's gut. It coiled tight in his stomach and made his insides somersault. Too many times in his lifetime had he felt like he was just treading water, begging to get to land. The water had rushed into his lungs so many times that he had lost count. He had been drowning mentally since he was eleven. Every time he felt like he was finding his footing, another wave would wash him away. He could empathize with her more than she would ever know.

"Will?"

"What is truth and honesty, Brody? I mean, really. I like to believe I'm an honest man who always tells the truth… but sometimes I doubt the truths that I hold so closely. Can anyone really be honest and true when there are so many lies and deceptions out there?" Will licked his numb lips. "The world is crumpling around us, leaders betraying their people at every turn. We've been to war and back, seen horrific things happen to innocent people all in the name of what exactly? Our very existence seems to revolve around the fact that we're men of war and violence. Guns, germs, and steel – the age old summation of Earth."

"Jared Diamond?" questioned Brody.

"I dabble in all sorts of literature."

"From soul selling to summations of the Earth. Will you ever cease to amaze me?"

Will merely shrugged, his attention returning to the twinkling twilight. Ever since he could remember, he would lie in his backyard and gaze up at the stars. He studied astronomy in college, taking every course and lab he could fit into his otherwise very psychological and political curriculum. He liked to make up stories about the stars when he was a kid. When he entered his teen years, he believed that his far away biological parents were looking at the same star he was. As the years drug on, Will tried to forget about his fantasies and live in the real world. Except working on the X-Files proved it was hard to live in everyone else's reality.

"Will, there's something I need to tell you… something I've kept from you the past couple of days."

Part of him didn't even want to hear it. He was predisposed at that moment to just trust the woman next to him and not cause any sort of drama. He wanted to believe that someone in his life was being honest with him, sharing truths that nobody else would understand. The bit of information that she might unveil could very well be the end of their partnership and drive him back into the lonely pit of the basement office, paranoid and afraid.

"What?" he whispered.

"I was paid a visit by a man and a woman the night before we started this case," she started slowly.

The tightening in his gut became a vicious vise that was biting into his insides with poisonous fangs. Will hardly ever heard good news, so whenever someone suggested that they talk or that they'd been keeping something, it's never a good thing.

"The man tackled me… peeled away the collar of my shirt to look at my neck."

Will turned his gaze onto his partner, concern shining in his eyes. Whatever he thought she was going to tell him, it wasn't that she had been attacked in the comfort of her apartment.

"He said he had to make sure I wasn't _one of them_… they said they knew your biological parents and that they have been watching you from afar."

There was a piece of Will that felt guilty for not feeling that these people were risking their lives for him. Instead, his insides crawled about at the very thought that these people could be lying, trying to get to him through Brody. His gut gnawed at the thought of more lies and deceptions.

"What were their names?" croaked Will.

"Monica Reyes and John Doggett. I ran their names after they left… they were both classified.

"Of course."

"I can get them for you, if you like."

"From who? Faraday? Jesus, Brody, he's going to know something's up. When he figures out that he's lying and illegally giving you these documents for _me_, the shit storm of all time is going to explode. They're looking for a reason to shut down the X-Files, that's why they sent you to spy on me. If Faraday figures this out, he won't hesitate to fire the bullet himself."

A pained look of betrayal flashed over Brody's features. Will wanted to laugh, because she knew as well as he did that the only reason she was assigned to the X-Files was to shut it down. She was writing reports, giving her opinions about the division. All they wanted to hear was how much of a time and money waster the office was. They didn't want to hear the truth. In fact, they would crucify Brody if she tried to voice the truths that she slowly seemed to be understanding.

"Is that what you think? I'm nothing but a spy?"

"Well, you weren't sent to work with me because I'm the golden boy of the FBI," he reasoned.

"How many times do I have to prove to you that I'm your partner and I have no other agenda?"

"I've been screwed over more times than I can count, Brody. So excuse me if I don't instantly trust you when I've known you for a week."

"I can't continue to work with you if you don't have my back."

"I have your back, Brody. You will always have me watching your back no matter our disagreements. But do you have mine? Do you have my back or do you just have your own?" snapped Will.

He walked away from her, leaving her to stand in the bitter air by herself to think about the situation at hand. He couldn't stand there with her any longer when she refused to see that she was merely a pawn in one giant board of chess.

-

Arlington, Virginia

12:02 A.M.

Will twisted his key into the lock and entered his apartment. Kicking the door shut behind him, he flipped through the envelopes of a few days mail. Bills, pay stub, advertisements, skin magazine subscriptions, more bills. He tossed his keys onto the coffee table as his eye caught the flashing red light emitting from his answering machine. Punching the replay button with his thumb, he opened one of the bills.

_"William, its Daphne. I know it's been a couple of months since we last spoke… and I know that you're probably still angry at me for taking the job at the Defense Department. I just," _the female voice faltered and Will wanted nothing more than to just delete the message and not hear anymore. _"William, I've heard about your new partner Riley Brody. She cannot be trusted, William. She's working against you, trying to debunk your work, shut you down, rail you in. She's not your friend. She's working with men who want nothing more than to destroy you. I want to talk to you, need to speak with you. I know things about Brody that would make your skin crawl. William, call me. It's still the same number."_

The answering machine beeped loudly in the suddenly silent apartment. Will just stood there, dumbstruck at the message. His whole being shook with anger directed towards Brody. Instantly he believed the woman on the machine, his ex-partner… one of the few people he considered to be a friend once upon a time before she left him for some fancy job at the Department of Defense. Then there was a small bit of him that told him that Daphne didn't have all the facts, that she didn't know Brody like he did. She was making assumptions, being irrational.

Will collapsed down onto his threadbare couch in the mostly dark living room. The only light emitted from the fish tank in the corner of the room. A soft siren could be heard in the distance, a couple yelling from the floor below. Will was surrounded by people in his apartment complex, had the company of his pet fish, had the knowledge that Daphne was looking out for him, but he had never felt more alone in his life.

The phone rang, but Will didn't have the heart to answer it. He let the machine pick up the call and a familiar, warm female voice vibrated in his ears and made him sick to his stomach.

_"Hey, it's me, Brody. I called in a favor to VCU to get me access to Reyes and Doggett's classified files. I didn't want to ask Cullen Faraday again, because you're right. He'd only get suspicious. Anyways, Will, they were FBI agents and the last agents to work on the X-Files before you. Will, this Agent Doggett worked closely with your biological mother, was in charge of a manhunt for you biological father when he disappeared without a trace in Oregon in 2000. I say it's safe to assume that they were friends with your parents. Uh, gimme a call and we can go over the files this weekend."_

The excitement he felt at unraveling the mystery of his parents and their associates lost its appeal. In fact, he didn't want to look over the files with Brody, didn't want her to know anything about him or his past before he talked to Daphne. She was always honest with him, true, just, and honest. He needed to know what she knew.

-

Alexandria, Virginia

12:06 A.M.

Brody clicked the end button on her cell phone. Tossing the phone onto her desk, she sifted through the last couple days' mail. There was nothing out of the ordinary except one single letter. Her name and address was handwritten on the front of the white envelope. There was no return address. Turning the envelope over in her hands, she run her nail under the adhesive strip to see what was inside.

There were two pieces of fold paper. The first piece of paper had a list of names, dates, and serial numbers. The names were in alphabetical order; all were last names starting with 'B'. The name _Brody, Blake S. _caught her eye immediately. The rest of her family was listed as well - Dean, his wife Isabel, his daughter Juliet. Her parents, Grant and Mona, were also on the list as well as her. She noted her uncle and his family's names. The Brody family dates were relatively close together after their names – all around the spring of 2012 except for her niece whose date was much later. Scanning down through the list of other names, about two-thirds of the names had dates listed around the spring of 2012.

Laying the piece of paper on the coffee table, she focused her attention on the second piece of paper. On the top was written _'Avian Flu Inoculation Procedure'_. Below the heading were lists of how to inoculate the population and how to store the data. Glancing back at the paper on the coffee table, she realized that the dates corresponded with vaccination dates.

Sinking down into the couch, she let the paper slip through her fingers. It didn't make sense. Who would send her that and why? What did it mean? The Avian Flu inoculation had been mandatory as far as she could remember. She had been eight or nine, had cried when the needle pierced her skin, had grown upset when the scar didn't fade. Fingertips grazed her upper arm through the material of her blouse. The scar was still there as none of the scars from the inoculations faded.

* * *

Author's Notes - I hope you enjoyed the latest 'episode'. I've been majorly busy with the first couple weeks of college not to mention I worked rush at the college bookstore. Not a good combination. So I'm sorry for the late update. Special thanks to Carol for looking over the 'episode' and editing. Any mistakes left are purely my own.

I've come to realize that this is slightly a big undertaking - although I never did start a project that didn't become very involved and substantial. I was wondering if anyone was interested in writing the series with me. Obviously, you would need to be a veteran fanfiction writer, have a concrete understanding of character development, and be a team player. If anyone is interested, drop a review with your email address or something and I'll contact you with farther details.


	4. S1E4 Judas Kiss 1

Title – Judas Kiss

Summary – Children start disappearing all over the U.S. only to be returned days later with spectacular abilities.

"**Judas Kiss"**

Grosse Pointe, Michigan

November 23, 2030

"I just don't know what to do anymore," a woman sobbed.

She stood outside of an observation room with a man dressed in a long white lab coat, watching a small boy busily write symbols onto an array of paper. It was computer paper, the standard kind that was printer ready and white as fresh snow, and they were taped neatly together across the floor. It spanned corner to corner, seemingly making some sort of uneven triangle. The symbols were drawn with care, the pink and fleshy bottom lip of the child slipping in-between his teeth. The crayon hovered over the paper, and the boy jumped up and rushed across to the other side of the room. Laying the tip of the green crayon down, he carefully continued a different set of symbols.

"He was missing for five days, Mrs. Parker. You're very lucky to have him back, and I'm doing everything in my power to help him psychologically."

"All he does is draw these symbols, Doctor Heron. What are they?"

The psychologist didn't reply. Instead, mother and doctor watched the child scurry through a small opening in the papers up to the middle of the room to grab more paper to start a whole new row of symbols. Mrs. Parker let out a wail of a sob before dashing down the hallway as far away from the observation room as possible.

-

Doggett Residence

Fairfax, Virginia

November 24, 2030

Brody cut the engine of her sedan outside of the well-manicured home of John Doggett and Monica Reyes. Grabbing the envelope that contained the two pieces of paper about the Avian Influenza inoculations, she marched up the driveway with her head held high. She rapped her knuckles a few times on the wood before pushing the doorbell with her thumb. Rustling from inside the house could be heard, footfalls nearing, before the door opened to reveal Monica Reyes.

"Agent Brody," she said amused.

"Did you send me this?" Brody shouted as she held up the envelope. "Why did you send me this? Why the hell isn't Will returning my phone calls? What did you two do?"

"What is that?"

"Influenza inoculations from 2012! What do you want from me?"

"Come in, please."

Cautiously, Brody stepped inside the house only because her gun was tucked away in its holster at her hip. Her eyes caught sight the fireplace mantel where an array of pictures littered the wood. In some of the photos, there was a small boy with blonde hair and blue eyes. Except, there seemed to be no progression of his life which allowed Brody to assume that this was John Doggett's deceased son she read about in his file. The rest of the pictures showed the life of two girls with dark hair and bright eyes.

"We didn't send you that information," her calm voice broke Brody's gaze.

"Then who did?"

"Someone who obviously trusts you enough to give you this information," Reyes said with a smile. "You should feel honored."

Brody forced a soft chuckle, suddenly feeling more at ease with the ex-FBI agent. She was a family woman, married to her last partner with two daughters. She had just been looking out for Will, and Brody believed there was no ill-intent when her and her husband attacked her nights previous.

"I fear for Will," she whispered. "He won't return my phone calls."

"Did something happen between you two?"

"If it did, I'm in the dark. We just got back from this case in Desdemona. He believed the devil was collecting souls. We had to come back because we ran out of leads and there was no way to even begin solving the case. It looked just like animal attacks."

"Black dogs."

"What?"

Reyes smiled again, her eyes crinkling. She reminded Brody of Will – a more cheerful and easy-going Will at the very least.

"The folklore of selling one's soul, well black dogs or hellhounds does the collecting."

"You're a believer?"

"Let's just say I saw a lot of things in my lifetime that it's impossible not to have an open mind."

"Monica?" a male voice called from the second level. "Mon, have you seen my running shoes?"

The older woman rolled her eyes, her smirk growing even wider. Holding up a finger to Brody, she disappeared up the stairs. Faint voices floated through the ceiling. Things started to rustle from above. Brody suddenly felt very out of place. She wondered if it was how her parents behaved in an empty house.

Brody walked back to the long mantel. She felt drawn to the pictures – a seemingly happy family posing for birthday parties, holidays, graduations, fun activities. The Doggett sisters were close, always with huge smiles on their faces that resembled their mother and arms wrapped around each other. Then, there was one picture that seemed entirely out of place in the family album. Monica Reyes stood next to a short redhead who had a blue bundle in her arms. Reyes fawned over the child, her trademark smile gracing her face. Then, it plowed into Brody. It was Dana Scully and Will in the picture.

"Agent Brody," Doggett called from the stairs, "you might want to get those papers checked at the bureau for traces of anything that could help us determine who sent it to you."

In the new light, John Doggett didn't seem so threatening. In fact, he looked softer, more domesticated, and older. His voice no longer held the roughness it had that one night when he pushed her to the ground. It was gentle, filled with concern akin to an uncle talking to his favorite niece.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Doggett, that I'm being watched very carefully. I was assigned to the X-Files to… _deal_ with the issue in means that I saw fit. If I don't act accordingly, I might as well kiss my sweet ass goodbye."

"There's someone you can trust in the bureau, a forensic pathologist at Quantico," Reyes spoke up as she dug through the desk drawer for a pen and paper. "She's our daughter, Kenley. She can get the information without putting you in jeopardy."

The paper was folded and extended to Brody. She took it, stuffing it into her jacket pocket while making a mental note to visit Kenley Doggett in the morning. Part of her felt like she should thank them, spill out her life's story and even ask them to join Sunday brunch. The way that Doggett and Reyes portrayed themselves was entirely different than their first encounter. They seemed like different people as though they were plucked off the earth and replaced with Stepford Wives.

"Thank you," was all Brody could manage to say before lettering herself out.

-

Department of Defense

November 25, 2030

Everything starts with a catalyst - one single word, an action, a time, a day, an event. It seemed like life had ended when he was eleven, that he had been left to bleed to death only to raise from the ashes like a phoenix with a new lease on life. All of his childish preconceived ideas had been washed away with bitter acid, bubbling and sizzling at his skin. He felt like he couldn't breathe, that he was just barely keeping his head above water. It felt like the tide was always close, always ready to wash him into a pit so dark that he'd never be able to find his way out. Then, he met her and she had become his lighthouse.

They met in VCU during one of the biggest, most violent serial killer cases that Will had ever been on. She had been a rookie, but he never even suspected it. She was silent, strong, brave. She had rushed forward full-force without thinking about the consequences. Blunt and determined, this woman had swept Will off his feet and made the darkness dim. Then the scandal had erupted.

They snuck around for nearly four years, dancing around each other in sleazy motel rooms and behind the locked door of the basement office. She had found the X-Files with him, had giggled in delighted joy to be investigating a completely unknown territory. He loved her more than anyone he had ever met. She was so full of life, energetic, smart, witty. The emotions and feelings she arose in him made him actually feel like a little kid and allowed him to breathe. Then, one day, it all changed.

She left him. She left the X-Files, left her apartment in favor of a new one, left him for a bigger and better job opportunity in the Department of Defense. She had been aloof, distant, as she said her goodbyes… as she had cleaned out her desk and walked out of the basement office without looking back. He hadn't heard or seen her since until she left him a message on his answering machine about Riley Brody.

The ground seemed to shake, a bubbling earthquake at his feet. The walls seemed too small, narrow and menacing. The lights were blinding, bright fluorescence welded into the tiled ceiling. The people moved in slow-motion, gestures exaggerated and facial expressions seemingly frozen. The noises were soft, quaint, subtle.

He wondered what the hell he was doing there because it felt like he was walking to his execution. His mind was jumbled up with doubts and feelings that he couldn't easily categorize in his mind. They were clawing at his chest, desperately scrapping wholeheartedly at his heart. There was only one other time in the recent years had he felt so helpless and confused – when she had left him.

He let his legs do the walking, leading him unconsciously to where she was. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw her name gleaming on a nameplate. _Daphne Walsh – Special Liaison_. His breath hitched in his throat, expanding and straining. Licking his dry lips, he walked into the room to see she had her own secretary – a fresh faced woman with bright sunshine hair. She seemed utterly out of place in his black cloud world.

"Can I help you?" a voice filled with molasses asked.

"Is she in?"

"Ms Walsh asked not to be-"

Except, William Van de Kamp stopped listening. Making a beeline for the door, the secretary jumped up and fruitlessly tried to stop him from entering. The knob felt cool to the touch, his fingers curling around the smooth metal. Pushing the door open, he saw her sitting at her desk. Curled, toffee hair pulled back in a clip, glasses sliding down her nose, her dark eyes reviewing an open file. Her suit was crisp on her thin body, a bottom too many undone in an office setting. He could imagine her long legs crossed at the knee, her too high stiletto making little figure eights in the air.

"Daph…"

She looked up, a stricken look of disbelief crossing her features. He watched as she sucked in a breath and waved her assistant out of the room. Gesturing towards the few chairs settled in front of her desk, Will took one.

"William, I didn't expect to see you. It's been… months now."

"I was bitter."

"I noticed." She cleared her throat. "I didn't leave the X-Files to hurt you contrary to popular belief."

Nodding numbly, he allowed his eyes to drift towards the case file on the desk to see a familiar little boy's picture. He couldn't place the face, but he knew he had seen it before. The thought nagged in the back of his mind.

"Sure as hell felt like it though, Daph. You never called."

"That's a two-way street, William."

"You mentioned you had information on Riley Brody."

"Blunt and to the chase per usual, eh, Van?" When Will didn't smile at the old nick-name, Daphne rushed on, "She's not your friend."

"You said as much," Will snapped.

Really, he just wanted to cut the bullshit. All he ever got from people lately was bull. Lies and betrayals seemed to follow him around like a plague. _You're like a little dark storm cloud, Van_, Daphne had said to him on more than one occasion. He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, tried to lock them away and bury the key. Those days were over.

"Monroe assigned her to you. You and I both know Monroe's lifetime goal."

Will snorted. Assistant Director Monroe was a man who was constantly trying to shut down the X-Files marking it was a waste of time, money, and bureau resources. Not to mention, in his little reports, he would divulge into how mentally unstable Will was – a danger to himself and to others.

"That's all the evidence that you have that I shouldn't trust her even with a ten-foot pole?"

"She's a skeptic, William, I mean, honestly, she doesn't believe what you and I believe."

"She's more open-minded than you might think," snapped Will.

"Please, don't tell me she has you wrapped around her little acrylic manicured nails."

"Yeah, well, she's in the basement office and you're not."

Daphne sighed, her eyes glancing anywhere but his face. Will gazed down at her desk, at the file that laid there neatly with Daphne's small script in the margins. _Peyton Olander_ was printed at the top of the page and everything immediately clicked in his brain. He saw the story on the nightly news for the past couple of days. He was the latest of a string of kids to disappear and then reappear days later acting anything but normal.

"How did you get this case?" he questioned.

Daphne looked at him, annoyance shining in her chocolate orbs. Her hand snapped the file shut and swiped it from the desk. She shoved it in a drawer to clearly make her point. She wasn't going to tell him jack-shit.

"I'm late for work," he announced with a sigh.

It was different. She was so different.

"You're such a little dark storm cloud," she replied.

"Don't even, Daphne."

Hoisting himself out of the comfy chair, he marched out of the office with little comfort and a little sadder than before.

-

FBI Academy

9:20 A.M.

Brody walked through the corridors that she had once studied in. It seemed different somehow, foreign and less daunting. Classes must have been in session, because there was an eerie calmness through the building. Her heels clicked on the tile floor as she looked at the different offices trying to find Kenley Doggett.

Several feet ahead, a double door of a morgue opened to reveal a brown-haired woman tugging an autopsy table with a body on top of it. She looked down the hallway and caught sight of Brody. Immediately, the woman froze and suddenly looked guilty as though she were caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Brody squinted and vaguely remembered the girl's face from the pictures on the mantel in the Doggett residence.

"Doctor Kenley Doggett?"

"Depends on who's asking."

"Special Agent Riley Brody. I spoke with your parents."

Kenley Doggett broke out into a grin, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. She started to tug the table once more, making her way across the hall to another morgue room. She called for Brody to follow her. Brody walked down the hallway, feeling like she should be looking behind her for spies or peering eyes.

Once inside the room, Brody noted that the doctor had already started to sift through the X-Rays, toxicology reports and other medical documents. The sheet was pulled down, a man laid on the table – still and so pale. Brody didn't really want to walk in any farther knowing that an autopsy would be performed.

"What happened to him, Doctor Doggett?"

"Kenley, please. I don't know quite yet. His brain just shut down."

She pulled out a CT scan of what looked like the brain, but Brody couldn't be sure from the angle. She didn't really want to step any farther into the room if she didn't need to.

"He was abducted from his home when he was a child. Less than a week after disappearing, he just showed up in a hospital. There was nothing wrong with him except, obviously, post-traumatic stress disorder. I mean, physically he was fine. There were no bumps or bruises or scraps. There were no broken bones or fractures. Psychologically, he shut down. He refused to talk, never talked again actually, and just started to draw symbols on pieces of paper."

"Then what?"

"Well, it was odd. Slowly, areas in his brain just started to shut down. First, it was the Broca's area and Wernicke's area. Then the Brodmann areas started to shut down one by one. This is the end result - obviously."

"Why did his brain shut down and why is he here?"

"Honestly, I have theories about why his brain started to slowly die, but I haven't performed my own autopsy yet for conclusive evidence. Anyways, the case belongs to the Defense Department. Technically, I'm not supposed to have this body. I, uh, kinda stole it. Anyways, what happened to him about eighteen years ago… it's happening again to other children. Call me crazy, but I think there's a connection."

"Eighteen years?"

Brody quickly did the math in her head. 2012. It was the same year that Will had been kidnapped, the same year he had somehow gotten away. She suddenly had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. If Will hadn't gotten away, would this had happen to him? Would he had been a mute child just drawing symbols until his brain shut down bit by bit? It was hard to imagine her brilliant, so full of life partner reduced to nothing.

"Long time, huh? He was the first eighteen years ago that this happened to. I'm expecting a whole bunch of bodies to come through here in the next couple of months."

"Did they ever catch who did this?"

"Uh, really, it all depends on who you talk to. I mean, there was a cult that was arrested for it. I don't think they did it though."

"Then who?"

"Riley – can I call you Riley?" Brody nodded. "Okay, Riley, we just met. I mean, you seem like a really nice gal and all, and, hey, maybe we could be friends or something. Anyways, I don't really feel comfortable telling you my thoughts, because my thoughts get me written up and put on probation."

"I work on the X-Files."

That simple statement made Kenley beam. Holding up a finger, she rushed towards the double doors of the morgue and secured them shut – bolt and all. She rushed towards the dead body, beaconing Brody to follow her. Digging through her lab coat pocket, she produced a small machine that she sat next to the toe-tagged foot.

"Okay, we're safe to talk."

"What is that?"

"Uh, a scrambler. It blocks microphones and such by scrambling the frequencies so no one can record what we're saying." She let out a chuckle. "Okay, so if you work on the X-Files then you gotta know about the Super Soldiers."

"Your parents mentioned it. I'm not too clear on what they are."

"Oh, man, lots of explaining. They're, uh, humans who were turned into aliens. Alien-human hybrids. You know? Anyways, they're indestructible, except for the fact that magnetite is their Achilles' heel. I mean, they'll pull a flying nun into a-a mountain made of magnetite. It's the only thing that will kill them. Well, that we know of."

"So… these Super Soldiers?"

"I, along with some close associates, believe that these children in… 2012ish were abducted by Super Soldiers and subjected to tests. These, uh, symbols that they drew? It's like they're working on something. Decoding or-or recording something for them. These kids that are disappearing now, we believe that the same thing is happening again. I mean, these kids disappear from their beds or on their way home from school and they turn up a week later different. I fear that these children are slowly dying like this man. There were, uh, brain disorders found in the kids from 2012. I mean, if these kids aren't tested, they could end up here in eighteen years or so."

"I have to go."

The only thought in Brody's mind was that Will was dying of some brain disorder like the others. He could have gone eighteen years undiagnosed. The thought scared her more than she was willing to admit. She knew she was being irrational, knew that jumping to conclusions was always her downfall, but she had never felt so strongly about something as this. She rushed out of the morgue, the Avian Influenza papers long forgotten in her jacket pocket.

-

FBI Headquarters

9:58 A.M.

Will let out a long sigh, his thoughts mounded up like a filthy pile at a landfill. Growing up, he was raised in a small town in Wyoming where everyone knew each other. It was easy to trust people because the grocer was brother to the neighbor and the dentist was married to the school teacher. Everyone knew each other's names, everyone had connections. Will was raised to trust these people and the lessons learned as a child were hard habits to break.

When that van pulled up and those Super Solders grabbed him, his whole world crashed down around him. He no longer knew who to trust. The grocer seemed like a stranger, foreign and not so friendly anymore. The school teachers seemed like they were hiding things, treating him like some delicate flower to pull him into a false sense of security. Will went from trusting everyone to fearing everyone.

Except, those lessons of trust he learned as a child, still crept up on him. It was hard to deny his childish callings – to deny that perhaps his partner isn't related to his friendly neighbor. Maybe, just maybe, she could be keeping secret hidden truths that he so desperately craved. Up was down and right was left. He had no one to trust, no one to believe except for himself. Even that, trusting himself, was a dangerous thing to do.

"Sorry I'm la-"

Will walked into the basement office and stopped dead in his tracks. Brody wasn't there. Those feelings of doubt snuck up on him again, digging their poisonous teeth into his side. Letting out a long sigh, he shrugged off his jacket and threw it across the back of his chair.

"I know! I know! I'm late!"

The door burst open to reveal a frazzled Brody stumbling through the threshold. She rushed towards the desk, grabbing his coat and shoving it into his chest. Her hand found his and started to tug him towards the door like a little kid towing their parent somewhere of childish importance.

"I have a case for us – an X-Files even – but first we need to get you to the hospital to get an MRI or an EEG or an EKG or whatever brain scan you'll need. I don't know the difference."

"Whoa, whoa, Brody, what's up?"

Will slipped his hand out of hers, his feet rooted into the ground. She whirled around and gave him the most impatient glare he had ever received in his life.

"Okay, look, I know I don't normally believe in mumbo jumbo alien, devil, ghost stories. I don't – I'm not a believer. Except, I can't deny patterns or facts. The facts and patterns in this matter are quiet clear. Children in 2012, who were around your age, were kidnapped and returned days later. They were different and they were dying. Now, they're dropping like flies and a new patch of kids are going through the same thing. I don't know what it means, and I'm not saying that Super Soldiers or anything like that is behind it, but as your partner I have to beg you to get a brain scan to see if you have a brain disease."

Will just stood there in stunned silence unable to make his vocal cords form any intelligent words. So he did the only thing he could do. He stared at her as though she had two heads or was a martian from another planet. After a minute of pragmatic silence, Will managed to utter, "_What_?"

Brody groaned before launching into a long, detailed story about John Doggett, Monica Reyes, and their daughter Kenley. She talked of Super Soldiers supposedly abducting children, performing tests on them, making them different. She rambled about Avian Influenza vaccinations. She talked about 2012, connecting points of how everything seemed to be centered on that year. Will stood there, dumbfounded as he listened to his once rational partner talk about conspiracies and mysterious informants.

"You believe all of this?" he whispered.

"I don't know what to believe, Will. All of my preconceived ideas are just quickly being thrown out the window and replace with absurd, crazy happenings."

"That's what happens when you work on the X-Files," he said lightly.

A small chuckle escaped her ruby lips as she reached out and gripped his upper arm and squeezed. Slowly, a grin dazzled her features as her eyes intently sought out his.

"Let's get to Grosse Pointe. I'll see a doctor there," suggested Will.

"Let's go, Partner."

Somehow, following Brody out of the corner basement office, it felt more natural than it ever did with Daphne. He couldn't explain why he was slowly starting to put so much trust into Brody, but it just felt like the right thing to do. She had been more honest and true in the short amount of time he's known her than anyone he had ever met.

-

Grosse Pointe, Michigan

St. Clare's Pediatric Institute

Will walked next to Brody as they walked into the building where the abducted and then returned children were staying for psych evaluations. The children were from different cities across the United States, but a majority had all been put under the care of Doctor Heron. He had adamantly refused to go to the hospital before talking with Jonah Parker.

The walls of the psychiatric unit brought back terrible memories from when he was a pre-teen. He had sat in an observation room for hours at a time, psychologists just watching his every move. It had been a suffocating prison where the walls were painted a sickening yellow. He never liked the color yellow after that. They set him up with books, game consoles, seemingly normal things. Except, he couldn't do anything but just sit in that room going over in his head all the things that had went wrong.

They had been permitted to see Jonah, an eight year old boy who had been missing for five days before returned, but were told they would be asked to leave immediately if the child began to get upset. Will followed Brody into the tiny pit of hell to see the eight year old Jonah Parker drawing on a piece of paper. Brody walked up to him, knelt down to his size and gave him the warmest smile she could have mustered.

"Hey, Jonah. My name is Riley, and this is my friend Will," she spoke gently. "What are you drawing?"

Jonah ignored her and continued to scratch out the intricate symbols with great detail. Will took a step forward, his heart pounding wildly in his chest as flashbacks assaulted his mind. God, he hated these places. He knelt down next to Brody, forcing a fake smile.

"Jonah, Buddy?" questioned Will.

The boy looked up, his gaze looking into Will. The crayon slipped out of Jonah's hand as the boy studied Will intently. Glancing over at Brody, he shrugged his shoulders lightly with a grimace clouding his features.

"Hi," the boy whispered.

Will knew that the psychologists behind the glass were burning holes into him with their eyes. He could feel Brody next to him openly gaping. Will had no idea why this child decided to open up to him and no one else. Seriously, he didn't know whether it was a curse or not.

"What are you drawing?" Will questioned as he plopped down on his butt and attempted to sit Indian style.

Jonah glanced over at Brody with suspicion clouded into his bright blue orbs. Will's gaze flickered in her direction before he took a deep breath. Reaching out a hand, he gently rubbed a knuckle across the kid's cheek to gain his attention. Jonah stared up at Will with fear shining in his features.

"Hey, it's okay. Br-Riley and I are friends. She's here to help you."

"Why are you lying, Will?" Jonah's voice cracked.

"I'm not, Buddy. Riley's here to help you just like me."

"Maybe. But she's not your friend."

Will froze at the words, dumbly blinking at the small child in front of him. His throat felt like it was closing up and his heart pounded fast in his chest.

"Of course, she's my friend. Why would you say she wasn't?"

"Because you don't trust her," Jonah reasoned, "but she trusts you."

Glancing over at Brody, he gave her a soft and apologetic smile before returning his concentration on Jonah.

"Will, I'll leave if you want," Brody whispered.

"No, don't. Jonah, Kid, listen to me. You can trust Riley and me. Tell us what happened."

"What if she's one of them?" Jonah pleaded.

"One of what?"

"The monsters with the bumps on their necks?"

He could feel Brody stiffen next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Brody brushing her brown locks off her neck. Will beaconed Jonah forward, taking the smaller hand into his own. Together, they traced the base of Brody's smooth neck. Underneath his feather-like touch, he felt Brody shiver.

"She's not a monster, see?"

Jonah nodded gravely before settling back onto the floor. His cheek concaved in, the flesh being chewed earnestly by his teeth. Will gave the most encouraging smile he could muster.

"The monsters said I wasn't allowed to tell anyone who wasn't one of us."

"One of what, Jonah?" questioned Brody gently.

"Special, like Will."

"Wh-what makes you and me so special, Buddy?"

"We're magic."

Children thought differently than adults. It was a universal fact. Will tried to put himself into the shoes of an eight year old boy, tried to remember what his childish reasoning was like. Except, for the life of him, Will couldn't place himself in a child's mind which was ironic due to the fact that the first half of his career at the FBI was putting himself into the shoes of serial killers and rapists.

"Magic how?" pressed Will.

"You know. _Magic_."

Will nodded even though he didn't quite understand. Magic. Was the magic he spoke of the fact that he'd hear an unbearable ringing in his ears whenever a Super Soldier was near? Was it the fact that he did extraordinary things when he was kidnapped?

"Will, please don't let the monsters hurt me," the kid pleaded with tears accumulating in the corner of his eyes.

"I promise you a thousand moons that no one will hurt you again."

The words had slipped out of his mouth with ease, the familiar little saying gnawing at his insides. _I promise you a thousand moons_, his mother would say with some pledge attached onto the end.

"I'll be by tomorrow, okay, Buddy?"

Jonah nodded, his pink bottom lip sucked into his mouth. The kid lurched forward, his skinny arms wrapping around Will's neck as though his life depended on it. Slowly, Will slipped his arms around the kid's middle and held the kid close to his chest.

"You're gonna be okay," whispered Will before pulling away.

Will stood up, Brody following. They walked out of the observation room in silence. Before the door closed, Will looked back to see Jonah continuing his work of symbol drawing. The psychologist, nurse and mother all rushed over to the pair with questions burning on their faces. Will shifted uncomfortably, his mouth suddenly like sandpaper.

"I want that child under twenty-four hour guard. No one besides Agent Brody, Mrs. Parker, Doctor Heron and myself are allowed access until we can establish that no one is going to harm Jonah," Will explained.

"Agent Van de Kamp…" Mrs. Parker whispered, "thank you."

Will forced a small smile before gently grabbing Brody by the elbow. He tugged her away from the peering eyes and down a corridor. The only thing that he wanted was to get the hell out of the psychiatric hospital.

"We need to get you to a doctor," pressed Brody.

"I'm fine."

"You could be dying without even knowing it, Will!"

She jerked her arm out of his grasp and turned to face him. Her eyes were pleading for him to stop, to think about what she was saying. Except, Will couldn't check himself into a hospital when Jonah needed his help, when there were other children who needed him.

"I feel fine, Brody."

"William," she sighed.

"Look, if I don't protect these kids then who will? Jonah trusts me, and I promised him I'd look out for him. I can't just disappear to a hospital for medical tests and not live up to my obligations. I'm not that kind of guy."

Brody groaned but said nothing. He knew she understood where he was coming from even though she didn't agree. So, he forced a smile onto his face and lightly punched her in the arm to indicate that everything was all right.

-

Buy Back Games

3:48 P.M.

"No, no, no. Look at this, Man!"

A blonde ten year old pointed to the game console, his face alit with excitement. His friend ambled over to him, obviously disappointed in the choice. With a snort, he shook his head and gestured for his friend to follow him.

"Come on, Joshua, that's weak. I hear they even discontinued making games for that piece of crap," the kid said.

"Is not," the blonde protested. "I heard the graphics were wicked!"

"Josh," the kid groaned.

"Ugh, never mind. You just don't understand."

Joshua dug through his jeans pocket for his cell phone. Glancing down at the clock, he sighed loudly enough to catch his friend's attention.

"My mom'll flip if I'm not home by four. You know how she is."

"Then get goin'. This weekend though, we'll have to have our gaming day. Ben said we could have it at his house."

"Yeah, okay. I'll see you in school tomorrow."

Joshua shoved his phone back into his pocket and rushed out of the gaming store. He had ten minutes to get home before his mother would ground him for the next two weeks. He wasn't supposed to go places without adult supervision because, apparently, there were too many criminals and dangers in this day and age. Except, Joshua would laugh whenever his mom would warn him about such evils since nothing _that_ bad ever happened in Grosse Pointe. Not to mention, he could take care of himself.

Those thoughts slowly started to wane when he felt the car tailing him. Gripping his backpack strap tightly, he picked up his pace. Joshua refused to look behind him, refused to acknowledge that he _knew_ this car was following him. The wheels of the vehicle squeaked, a rush of air breezing past the boy. Joshua froze as the car road up onto the sidewalk. The door opened to reveal a bulky man who grabbed Joshua by the arms and hauled him into the car.

The kid struggled against the calloused hands that pinned him to the backseat. An intense ringing vibrated in his ears so loudly that he couldn't hear the conversation that was going on between the men and women in the car. A hand touched his forehead, brushing aside his blonde locks. His eyes felt heavy and quickly sleep overtook him.

-

Conquistador Motel

10:23 P.M.

Brody lounged back onto the stiff motel bed, her heels discarded by the front door. Her jacket had been thrown on the back of a wooden chair, her blouse sleeves rolled up. On her lap was the police report on Jonah Parker's disappearance and return. She read through the information as the muffled sound of water cascading in the shower drifted from the bathroom. Suddenly, the water ceased and rustling could be heard.

The door opened, a wave of steam filling the room, as Will appeared in nothing but a blue terrycloth. Brody averted her gaze from Will, her eyes burning as she stared at the blurry words in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him bending over to dig through his suitcase for a change of clothes. The minutes seemed to tick by slowly, Brody's eyes watering at her intense concentration of the nonsensical words.

Will plopped down across from her on the bed clad in jeans and a t-shirt. His dark hair was damp, locks sticking to his forehead. A smirk crossed his features as he plucked the police file from her lap and lazily flipped through it.

"Honestly, Brods, I'm not going to drop into a seizure mode from some horrible brain condition that I probably don't even have," he said lightheartedly. "In other words, you don't need to baby sit me."

"I, uh, don't mind it. You know, I would just be over here every twenty minutes making sure you're okay, and me just hanging around here is no biggie."

"Right."

Will collapsed backwards, barely just missing Brody's feet. Raising the file over his face, Brody watched as he skimmed through the material as though he were merely reading a book for pure entertainment. Over the short time they had worked together, Brody was just beginning to comprehend Will's odd ticks and ways of doing things.

"Remember how I was telling you about Kenley Doggett?"

"Yeah, what about her?" questioned Will as he tossed the file aside.

"I think you two would get along fabulously," she replied as she drew her legs close to her body. "She's very… quirky and open like you."

"If I didn't know any better, Agent Brody, I would think that you were trying to set me up with your newfound friend."

Brody let out a small chuckle, a smirk working its way onto her face. Honestly, she just wanted to talk about anything at that moment because seeing a half-naked Will looking so nonchalant about it was unnerving to her.

"You know, I bet you're the kind of gal who reads those sappy romance novels, aren't you? You know, those Nicholas Sparks and that _Tuesdays at Tiffany's_ kind of… stuff."

"It's _Breakfast at Tiffany's_. Plus, Nicholas Sparks wrote some great romantic tales and Capote's story is timeless. I enjoy that kind of literature. I'm sorry that we can't all like sci-fi."

"I don't read sci-fi."

"Why don't I believe that?" she teased.

"I hunt for aliens all day long. I don't want to read fiction stories about it when I go home. Now, if it was a true story, then I would be inclined to read it."

Brody leaned back and slowly became more comfortable in the setting. Snaking a foot forward, she poked him gently in the side with her big toe. A strangled noise emitted from Will's lips as he turned to face his partner.

"What kind of literature do you like?" questioned Brody.

"Oh, I like the classics and the controversial pieces. You know, my parents were big on reading to me when I was a kid. Every week, after grocery shopping, my mom and I would go this small bookstore to buy a book or two that I wanted my parents to read to me. When I was six, I picked out _Moby Dick_ and my parents were literally shocked when I enjoyed it. Seriously, I went through a _Moby Dick_ phase where I renamed all of our farm animals after characters from the book. Spotty the dog turned into Ahab, Whiskers the cat was renamed Starbuck, Betsy the cow succumbed to Ishmael, and Oinks the pig was the second mate himself - Stubb."

"You're joking."

"I sort of wish I was." Will laughed. "I read _Moby Dick_ once every couple of years. When I was in high school, I went through a Hemingway phase. In fact, for my literature class in tenth grade we had to pick a short story to read in front of the class and carry a discussion on the piece. I picked _Hills like White Elephants_ and got Saturday detention. I went to this swanky Catholic private school that my grandparents paid for, and the nuns weren't impressed with me choosing a book that centered around an idea that went against their very religion."

Brody nudged Will in the thigh with her foot, a smile breaking out fully on her face. Will smirked right on back, a gleaming excitement captured in his green eyes.

"You know, I do enjoy Capote's style – more so with _In Cold Blood_ than _Breakfast at Tiffany's_."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Before Will could retort, there was a brisk knocking on the motel door. Will slid off the bed and ambled slowly towards the door. Brody craned her neck to see who was there only to see a vaguely familiar brunette female.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at, William?" the woman yelled as she pushed her way into the room. "I mean, seriously, you think that you can ju-"

The woman stopped once she caught sight of Brody. An exasperated sigh escaped her lips as she rounded on Will, hands placed firmly on her hips. Brody shifted on the bed, feeling completely out of place and awkward.

"You know what, William, I don't understand. Obviously, you don't care about what I think or about my job."

"Oh, don't be overdramatic," Will spoke in an annoyed tone.

"Overdramatic? I give you some friendly advice and you throw caution to the wind instead. I tell you stay away from my case and you get on the next plane out here. That's not being overdramatic. It's called being pissed off, William."

"This case is an X-File. Therefore, my partner and I have jurisdiction to investigate," he rationalized.

"This is a Defense Department matter, _Agent_ Van de Kamp. Tomorrow morning, the first thing you're going to do is get my partner and me clearance to speak with Jonah Parker."

"Since when does the Defense Department deal with kidnapped children who were returned?"

The woman groaned, and Brody could tell her patience was thinning rapidly. Will stood there, cool as a cucumber. As though a flipped had been switched on, Brody placed the woman. She was in Monroe's office when Brody was assigned to the X-Files.

"Don't make me call Washington, Van."

"Goodnight, Daphne."

Will held the door to the motel open, making his wishes clear. The woman named Daphne gave him a long, hard look before storming out of the room. The door swung shut, softly clicking. Will turned to Brody with an unreadable expression painted across his face.

"Will…" Brody trailed off.

"It was nothing," Will snapped.

Obviously, Will was thinking something entirely different than what Brody was thinking. She slid off the bed, her legs suddenly felt like rubber.

"I want you to trust me," Brody started, "so I'm always going to tell you the truth even if you don't want to hear it."

"What?"

"That woman is not your friend. She was there when I was assigned to work with you. She was standing in the shadows, just… observing. I think she wants to shut you down."

Instead of accepting her honesty and thanking her, Will just stood there with a look of utter disbelief plastered across his face. He just stood there, eyes narrowed with dumbstruck mask clouding his features. Brody slowly began to wonder if he would believe her.

"Will?"

"Funny. She said the same thing about you," he whispered.

Brody froze, eyebrows knitted down in confusion and disbelief. This woman had been trying to place doubts into Will's mind about _her_? It was then that Brody knew something was wrong, terribly wrong.

* * *

Author's Notes – Here's another chapter of the story. This is a three-chapter story-arc, so there will be more on the case and such. I'm going to attempt to update every week – or at least that's my goal. Special thanks to Carol for editing. Any mistakes left are purely my own. I created a livejournal (link will be in my profile) for this series. The series will be better organized over there, there will be update posts and previews for upcoming chapters. So friend me if you like. Those chapters will be a bit behind schedule since I'm updating every Sunday on the livejournal.

Please note that I'm still looking for co-writers. Please do leave a review.


	5. S1E5 Atonement 2

Title – Atonement

Summary – As the hunt for a missing child intensifies, Will and Brody part ways both in a professional and personal manner.

"**Atonement"**

_There is a weight with vessels that weave through the solid metal with a beating spirit in the core. The weight lives, pumping the blood through its vessels every single day. The days are drawn out, painted with loss and confusion. The weight's mind often contemplates the decisions of the past with painstaking agony. That weight with its mind and core is my heart. I live with the guilt and grief of letting you go. Years ago, so long ago that you cannot remember, I was faced with a reckoning. I could have kept you with me, could have run away and never looked back to the odd surroundings that had somehow become my life. Or I could have given you up in hopes that the darkness would not follow you into a new home with parents who were not hunted by secret governments or alien beings._

_I do not need to tell you the path that I set into motion. I loved you more than anything in the entire world, and I knew that I could not keep you safe. As I signed the papers that would make you no longer mine, I signed away a piece of my soul. I know that I can no longer claim you as my son, but I feel the motherly instincts that have grown inside of me are not so easily put at ease with the idea of you not in my arms. My heart tells me that giving you away for a life without constantly looking behind your back, a life without the darkness, a life without the fear, was not in the cards._

_You see, Sweet William, you are part Mulder and you are part Scully. That small fact automatically gives you the burden of birthright. My attempt at keeping you safe backfired in the worst ways as I see you following in the same footsteps as your father. I watch in pain as you battle through the smoke with only a heart of valor and desperation for the truth. I fear the consequences of my rash actions all those years ago, of my once rational brain thinking irrationally out of panic and loneliness has put you in the greatest danger imaginable._

_As your father and I paste together the pieces of the truth, we fear for our only son. I fear that your obsession for the truths that you are not meant to know will break you. I watched years before your father searching for those truths. I watched as his family was picked off one by one, watched as he raged a battle within himself. When the curtains were drawn back and the truth laid out in a carefully painted façade, I watched a part of your father die. I cannot watch that happen to you, William. I cannot sit back and watch as these truths slowly aid in your destruction. So I beg of you, if you decide to soldier through this journey, please be careful with each decision you face and place your trust wisely. The truths are out there, my son._

_The truth is not engrained into science or some other worldly plane. The truth is within you. The truth is within me. Within your father. The truth is the core of our own hearts; and by looking deep enough, can be revealed. I hope that you do not have to trudge this voyage alone. I pray that you have had the chance to meet your perfect other, your protector, like I have in your father._

-

Conquistador Motel

"You don't believe me," Brody said with a long, exhausted sigh.

Honestly, Will didn't want to have this conversation because it blurred together his professional and personal lives. Not to mention, the very subject of trust was a hard thing to tackle. He had been duped so many times in his life that he was surprised that he could trust anyone at all. Daphne seemed like someone he could trust and then she betrayed that trust by leaving him months ago. Brody had done nothing but attempt to gain his trust, and he always wanted to back down every time the very issue would arise.

"I've known Daphne for years," he reasoned.

"So that means she's automatically in the trust category? Seriously, Will, that's how your brain works?"

If there was ever a time for a movie perfect moment of interruption to occur, Will wished it would come soon. He could literally feel the hurt and anger that was radiating off his partner. Out of everyone Will had known, Brody was the only person who constantly seemed to seek his friendship.

"There could have been a million reasons why she was in Monroe's office when he assigned you to me."

Frankly, Will didn't know why he was defending Daphne. She had left him, tossed him aside like an old doll and yet he felt some sort of devotion towards her. She had been the queen of bitches to him months ago, but he was standing there defending her honor to Brody. He knew he was officially messed up in the head completely.

"I tell you everything, Will. I have not kept anything from you and yet you don't trust me as far as you could throw me. I-I think once this case is over with it would be best if I asked for a transfer out of the X-Files."

Part of Will wanted to tell her not to leave him, that he just needed time. Another part told him that her leaving would be the best thing because he didn't need a little spy snooping around his office.

"Yeah, you know what, I think that would be for the best too," he found himself saying.

"All right. Consider this our last case together."

Will watched Brody as she grabbed her jacket and slipped on her heels. She refused to look at him, refused to acknowledge him any longer. When the door slammed shut, Will let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Then, his damn cell phone rang, and Will thought that he was cosmically being laughed upon.

"Van de Kamp," he barked into the cell.

He listened patiently as the head detective on Jonah Parker's case told him about another small child who was abducted earlier that day. Will scanned his mind quickly, realizing that this was the only town where more than one child had been taken. Letting out a groan, Will made his way out of the motel room to pick up Brody.

-

Grosse Pointe Police Department

November 26, 2030

2:33 A.M.

When they arrived at the station, the debriefing had already begun. Will noted Daphne sitting towards the front of the room, her attention caught by a small handheld computer. He took a seat in the back, Brody sinking down next to him. At the front of the room was an unfamiliar agent in a crisp suit explaining the circumstance of the latest abduction. Perhaps the fact that most unsettled Will was that this agent looked better suited to be in a magazine spread and not in charge of anything let alone the disappearance of a ten year old named Joshua Knopf who was last seen at a video game store after school with a friend.

Will watched as the surveillance video played from outside a small candle shop. Joshua was walking down the sidewalk when a car veered in front of the kid. The back door opened, hands reached out to grip the boy by the arms and haul him into the vehicle. Their faces were not visible. Except, as the one man bent forward to grab the kid, something caught Will's eyes.

"Can you rewind that?" he questioned.

"You can ask questions at the end," the man commented.

"I don't have a question. I just want you to rewind. I think I saw something."

"I'd like to look myself," Brody interjected. "Can you please rewind the tape?"

With a sigh, the man rewound the tape. Will told him exactly when to stop, when the suspect reached out to grab Joshua Knopf. There, on the base of his neck, were two very visible protrusions from the skin. A Super Soldier. They were Super Soldiers kidnapping children just like they had done eighteen years ago. His original instinct had been right.

"See that? Those bumps?" Will pointed out.

"Yes, Agent Van de Kamp, I see this man's spine sticking out. So what?"

"That man is not a man. He's been extraterrestrially enhanced."

The room grew silent as a dozen pairs of eyes gave their full attention to Will. Even Daphne glanced at him, an unreadable expression painted across her face. Next to him, Brody was looking anywhere but at him and no doubt wishing that she wasn't automatically associated with his ideas.

"Agent Van de Kamp, your reputation is not lost within the walls of the Defense Department, but I must say I'm a little underwhelmed," male model said crossly.

"Sorry to disappoint you..."

"Sawyer Davies. Daphne Walsh and I are now heading this investigation since it's under DOD jurisdiction."

"I'm sorry, Davies, I don't understand why the Defense Department is so interested in kidnappings."

"I'm sorry, Van de Kamp, but I don't understand how you are still an agent with the FBI when you go around flashing a badge and shouting to the heavens about aliens," the man snapped. "There are young children being kidnapped here, and you have the audacity to go around crying alien when these kids are being taken by real sick bastards."

"You think I don't understand the seriousness of this situation? I was kidnapped when I was eleven years old. Trust me, Davies, I understand completely how deadly serious this is."

"Yeah, Van de Kamp, you were kidnapped but I hear you blame aliens for your little abduction."

Will let out a scoff, anger boiling up inside of him. A gentle touch brushed across the back of his head. Snapping his head to the right, he saw Brody silently pleading for him to stop the war of words. Except Will had never wanted to punch someone in the face more than in that moment. Wrenching his hand away, Will leaned back in his chair and motioned for the dickhead to continue.

As soon as Davies started talking again, Will rose from his chair and stormed out of the room. He couldn't take listening to the smug bastard any longer. He could feel his heart pounding wildly against his ribcage, could feel the pure rage pumping through his veins. Moments later, Brody was joining him outside the debriefing room.

"Will…" she trailed off.

"I know what happened to me," Will hissed. "I know those Super Soldiers abducted me and-and tested their little theories on me. I know that they're taking these kids now. I know what they're doing to these kids, and for Mister Big Shot in there to tell me that I don't give a damn about them is just ludicrous! Where does he get off?"

"Will, you gotta understand that not everyone sees the world as you do."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that your summation of the world is different than other people's. Not everyone believes in Super Soldiers or government conspiracies."  
Will sighed, the argument dying on his tongue. It was useless to argue with Brody about the subject, fruitless to force her to see what was right in front of her. Part of him knew he was losing his professionalism by making this case close to his heart, by taking personal responsibility for these kids.

"Where does the Knopf family live?"

"We're not heading this investigation, Will," reasoned Brody.

He watched as her hand started to reach for his but suddenly jerked to her side as though she thought better about the whole thing. Will sighed, turning his neck from side to side in order to crack it.

"Who cares, Brody?"

"Will…"

"Honestly, you think that this is the Defense Department's main job? You think that they have any clue how to run a kidnapping? Brody, come on. You know just as much as I do that this isn't a DOD case. There's something beyond simple kidnappings going on here."

"We could get into so much trouble for this, Will. I mean, they could have our asses on a platter for going above them on this."

"Come on, Brody, be a rebel."

A soft smile crept up on her face as she glanced back at the conference room. She turned back to him, stared directly into his eyes, before nodding in defeat.

-

Knopf Residence

When they arrived at the seemingly regular all-American house, reporters littered the sidewalk and street. Police barricades were stationed to keep civilians at bay. The reporters stood under the street lamp, huddled together like a swarm of buzzing bees. Light bulbs from cameras flashed frantically at the house. When the swarm of reporters caught sight of the FBI agents, they were ambushed. An odd dozen journalists were barking questions at the pair.

Will let his hand trail down to the small of Brody's back and led her quickly towards the home. Jaw tightened and hand up to block the flashes, Brody dug through her jacket pocket to produce her badge to gain them access.

Once inside, the Knopfs sat together, fingers intertwined, on the living room couch. Police and detectives were scattered about the house, bustling through for evidence and whispering in low tones. Will strolled forward, taking a seat across from the couple. Elbows rested on his knees as he leaned forward and plastered his most empathetic look he could muster.

"My name is William Van de Kamp. I'm a special agent with the FBI, and I want you to know that I'm going to do everything in my power to find the bastards who took your son."

"He's such a sweet boy. Why would anyone want to take him?" Mrs. Knopf sobbed.

"That's what we're here to figure out," Brody spoke softly.

"Tell me about Joshua. Was there anything different about him that could have made him a target?" questioned Will.

"Uh, I-I'm sorry?" Mrs. Knopf questioned in confusion. "We're just a-an ordinary family."

"He's a smart boy," Mr. Knopf supplied as he licked his lips. "He, uh, had advanced classes during first grade. They didn't want him to skip, because they say that kids who skip grades sometimes struggle later in their school career. So he took special lessons, sort of a step-up program."

Will glanced over at Brody who was standing beside the chair he was currently residing. She looked interested as she jotted down notes into a pad. Turning back to the couple, Will tried to process the information in his mind.

"Is there anything else you can think of? Perhaps, odd things that would make him stand out against other kids," he pressed.

"Uh, not that I can think of. I mean, he's like any other ten year old. He's a good boy."

The front door to the house opened, and Will could hear Daphne's brisk voice wafting through the air. She appeared in the living room with her partner, both looking irritated at the scene in front of them. Will's jaw clenched.

"Agents, I'm so glad to see that the FBI doesn't know how to follow through on protocol," Davies commented. "Mr. and Mrs. Knopf, we're with the Defense Department and we're the actual one's heading the investigation."

"The Defense Department?" Mrs. Knopf whispered.

"Yes, I'm Sawyer Davies and this is my associate Daphne Walsh. Look, we're not going to beat around the bush. Your son is missing, and I'll be damned if I let anyone hurt him. So let's cut the bullshit and get to the facts. Do you or your husband have any enemies? Has anyone ever threatened you or your family? Are there any grudges? Anything at all. I want to hear everything even if it was just borrowing a hammer from Joe down the street and never giving it back."

A chuckle escaped Will's lips, his attention solely on Davies. It was as though the Defense Department was just wasting time until Joshua showed up, and that pissed Will off.

"Anything at all would be helpful at this point," Daphne spoke gently.

Standing up, Will made his way towards the back of the house. Hopefully, he would be able to slip out the back and slowly make his way back to the rental car without the slew of reporters hounding him. He could hear Brody's heels clicking on the hardwood floors behind him. Soon enough, she walked beside him with her shoulder bumping against his arm.

"Do you find it odd that they're here talking to the Knopf family and not out finding the car that was seen on the surveillance?"

"They probably have a team on that, Will."

"Yeah, maybe."

Stepping out into the crisp November air, Will stuffed his hands into his pockets. A hand touched his elbow, stopping him from continuing forward. He turned around to meet Brody's concerned face looming there.

"You're making this case personal, Will, and I think it's clouding your judgment."

"You saw the bumps, Brody. You know just as I do that Super Soldiers kidnapped Jonah Parker and now have taken Joshua Knopf. You can't deny what you saw!"

"Will, right now, I'm seeing an agent on the brink of an emotional breakdown."

"Oh, please, save your pop psychology for someone who will actually appreciate it!"

Anger and frustration pumped through Will's veins as he watched police scour the house for God only knew what. He wondered if when he went missing police had searched tooth and nail in his home. He wondered if his parents even questioned the acts, wondered if the Defense Department had been there covering the whole mess up. There were so many questions that never seemed to find answers. In fact, just more inquiries were piled on top on a never ending game of cat and mouse. Just for once, he'd like a few answers and this was the case that could help him find them.

"Look, would you just, for two seconds, get off your high horse and listen to me? What kind of person would kidnap a child and return them days later without a physical scratch on them? What kind of returned kid has ever acted the way that Jonah Parker is without being molested or beat? Like any of the other kids in this case that we haven't met. Can we just pretend for a bit, for the sake of pretending, that Super Soldiers or whatever the hell they are kidnapped these kids?"

"Okay, so a couple of Super Soldiers are kidnapping kids and hurting these kids but no physical trace was left. How were they hurting them?" Brody played along.

"Mentally. They were performing parapsychology tests on the children."

"Parapsychology?"

"Hear me out, all right?" Brody nodded. "ESP, telekinesis, telepathy, psychokinesis, psychometry, the whole freakin' nine yards and plus some."

"Pseudoscience in layman terms."

"Po-tay-to. Po-tah-to."

Brody ran a hand down her face, a sigh escaping her lips. Will cleared his throat, his eyes drifting upwards to the cloudy sky. He speculated what kinds of tests were being performed on Joshua in that very moment.

"Will, I honestly don't know what to say to this."

"You know, when I was fifteen or sixteen, this book came out. It was called _Foxhunt_ about a paranormal journalist and his skeptic wife. The protagonist uncovered a government conspiracy of alien invasion, and that a shadow government had conspired with the aliens to buy time for the inevitable invasion. This shadow government was all killed by a rebel force of aliens except for a select few who had molded the whole situation into a giant chess game."

"Where is this story heading?"

"Well, these select few who had avoided the rebel forces let the project spiral out of control until the aliens themselves started to progress the work. They would abduct humans with brain abnormalities and subject them to tests in order to make an alien-human hybrid."

"I thought you didn't read science fiction."

"I don't normally. Although I was a loner teenager looking for some sort of release from every day society in school where I was looked at like a freak."

"Please, Will, don't tell me that you use this book as the basis for your search for the truth."

"I must admit, I read the book and never thought much about it again until I found the X-Files. I was shifting through old case files, going on cases with unexplained phenomenon, and a lot of my findings reflected what I had read in this book. I looked up the author and found that he wrote a couple of books. I bought them all and submerged myself into his storytelling of alien conspiracies and found so many parallels that it was literally shocking."

"Lemme guess. You located the author and found out he was actually writing the truth because he was one of these conspirators of the shadow government."

"No, actually. I tried to find the author but it was as though he never actually existed." Will sighed. "I want you to go review that surveillance tape and try to locate the vehicle."

"What are you going to do?"

"The jury's still out on that."

Brody nodded as Will held out the keys to the rental to her. He'd find another way around, perhaps rent another car. Hell, who cared if he racked up the expenses? It was all paid for by the bureau, and they already bitched at him enough for the most minute things. What's one more small bullet of ammunition gonna hurt? Brody grasped the keys in her hand without hesitation and walked away. Will watched her go, watched as she disappeared around the corner. He looked at up the house one last time before following suit.

Once at the front of the house, Will noticed a young woman struggling to get past the barricades. All of the other journalists had stepped back. The woman yelled about the truth and government conspiracies. Her long red hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, her pale face covered in an array of freckles. A tape recorder was held in her hand, her suit twisted on her frame as she attempted to get passed the cops.

"Excuse, Miss?" Will called.

The woman stopped, her lips twisting into a smirk. She stepped back, straightened her jacket and pencil skirt. She just stared at him, finger grazing over the record button. Will walked up to her, stood on the other side of the barricade.

"You shouldn't be here. You all shouldn't be here. These people's son has been kidnapped. Leave them alone."

"Oh, I shouldn't be here? Ever hear of freedom of the press, Buddy?" the redhead challenged.

"Look, this is an investigation. You can't just wander on in here demanding interviews for your little paper."

"Who are you to decide that?"

"I'm an FBI agent, and I'm going to ask you one last time to leave."

"Oh, so very typical. The G-man wants to keep the truth covered up long enough until he weave and craft a tall tale to tell the reporters!"

"Don't even speak to me about the truth, all right?"

"You suits in Washington just keep the truth hidden from the American public! They have a right to know what's really going on!"

"What's your name?"

"You want my name so you can tell your little government cleaners about me? So that I can disappear in the middle of the night for fighting for the truth? I don't think so, Sugar."

"Look, my name is William Van de Kamp, and I'll be happy to help you spread the truth loud and clear. Right now, however, we need to conduct an investigation so that we can begin to uncover the truth."

"William Van de Kamp?" She smirked. "I've heard of you. It's so _so_ good to meet you."

"Excuse me?"

"Ione Scully – your mother's niece, which would make us cousins," she introduced herself as she extended a hand. "Gran has said so much about you."

Will stood there, shell-shocked. The pale, freckled hand grabbed his and shook it with gusto. It was such a foreign experience to meet someone so young in his family. In his adoptive family, it had just been his grandparents, parents and him. No siblings or cousins close to his age. When he found his biological parents identities, he had only met his grandmother and she had never mentioned any family members besides his mother and father.

-

Quarter-Side Dinner

7:13 A.M.

Will leaned back into the cracked faux-leather seats of the dinner. Mentally and physically exhausted, he couldn't find it in himself to actually go to bed. He had been at the police station and then the Knopf residence for hours. Upon finding his older cousin, he couldn't just let her slip away. He had always craved to know his biological family, and this woman was a part of that. Not to mention, she was a believer.

"Dad said you worked for the FBI. Gran called and told the whole family… well, I don't think she called Uncle Bill at any rate. If she called my dad first, then I'm sure my dad told her to spare Uncle Bill the news."

"Yo- Gran hasn't mentioned you guys."

"Yeah, well, she's been too busy fawning over you."

"Uh, you mentioned an Uncle Bill. Why wouldn't he want to know about me?"

Ione snorted, a smirk breaking out. She pushed around the pancakes on her plate before setting the fork aside. Lacing her fingers together, she propped her elbows up on the table and looked at Will.

"Rumor has it that Uncle Bill never quite liked your dad. In fact, I heard he downright hated him and wished he'd just disappear off the face of the planet. Not to mention, finding out that you joined the ranks of the G-Men, Uncle Bill would just be disappointed that yet another Scully has fallen victim to Fox Mulder's Idiotic Quest for the Truth – or as he likes to call it."

"So that's one uncle I can cross off the Christmas card list. What about you searching for the truth? Does he disapprove of you, Ione?"

"It's Scully and yes. I'm a royal disappointment, but he can kiss my ass." She chuckled. "My dad likes to say Uncle Bill has a God complex."

Will laced his fingers around the coffee mug to feel the warmth. His breakfast laid discarded, the grumbling in his stomach not strong enough. There were so many questions he wanted to ask his cousin but found that he couldn't form coherent thoughts in his mind. Everything seemed to be jumbled together in giant murky puddles.

"Tell me about yourself," he suggested.

"Uh, I have a little sister – a pain in my ass. I have two parents. Dad's in the Navy and Mom's a photographer. I got my undergrad in journalism and sociology only to go on and get my master's in sociology. I attended Stanford. Basically got my name discredited when I suggested a paranormal cause for this one murder case I was covering. So now I jump around the paranormal journals and magazines writing about the stuff that nobody wants to talk about because they're too arrogant to open their eyes to the possibilities."

"What got you interested in all of this?"

"Your mom actually. I never did see her much growing up, because she wasn't exactly the social butterfly in our family. I'd hear these stories though, from my dad. He's just so fond of her, and he respected the work that she did. I remember just hearing about the X-Files and all the outlandish tales. I just… I wanted to find the truths that she was searching for everyday. Except, you know, I don't have the stomach for gruesome murders or a taste for guns so I went the journalistic route instead of the investigative route," explained Ione.

"Not too into the whole gun culture mantra of America?" teased Will.

"You know, it was a toss-up on how I was going to turn out. My dad's this hardcore Republican and my mom's this headstrong Democrat, so basically it was destined that I would go liberal and my sister conservative."

Will gave a soft smile and suddenly longed for lazy summer days with his cousins at his grandmother's house. He longed to feel part of their little union, to know his uncle and aunt. He wished for a brother or a sister so that he could analyze which one turned out like mom and which one turned out like dad. Except, he would never have that. It wasn't as though he hated his adoptive family either. He loved them because they had stuck by his side and loved him when he was a royal pain in the ass. They were loving, caring people. They were his true parents in every sense of the word that mattered. The feeling of rejection and grief consumed him, however, with the longing to be loved by Fox Mulder and Dana Scully.

"… what you've read?"

"What?" questioned Will, snapping out of his reverie.

"I was talking about the X-Files cases. I've managed to dig up some history on them. You know, cases that Aunt Dana and Mulder investigated. I was speaking about two in particular but you were off in dreamland."

"I was just…"

"Thinking?"

_No, wishing_. Will nodded anyways at Ione's assumption and took a gulp of the rapidly cooling coffee. His mind wandered to his basement office where the files he's read several times were stashed. He never paid much attention to the investigators names on the page. He was more interested in the tales that were written on the page – how they were littered with mystery and intrigue. He wondered how many times he had skimmed over the names of his parents without even an ounce of thought given.

"So who do you think abducted Joshua Knopf and Jonah Parker?" Ione questioned.

"Super Soldiers. I know it."

"Super Soldiers? I don't understand."

"Alien-human hybrids," he supplied with an awkward smirk. "I know how it sounds, believe me, but they were men who were somehow changed into something alien. They have these bumps on the back of their necks and the only way I've ever seen to kill them is with magnetite."

"Magnetite? Really?"

"Ione-"

"It's Scully," she said in an exasperated tone.

"Sure. Fine. Whatever. Listen to me, I…"

Will faltered, the words dying in his throat. He was about to tell a perfect stranger about his abduction when he was just eleven years old, about the mental experiments he vaguely remembered. Except, he couldn't bring himself to tell her. Never before in his life had he wanted the approval of someone. His once upon a time family was so close, so real to him that he didn't want to drive them away. He wanted a connection with his cousin, his grandmother, his uncle. He wanted to feel apart of the Scully clan, wanted to be accepted into their fold of life.

"What?"

"Uh, if you write about this – any of this – just keep my name out of it. All right? I'm already in deep shit half the time with the bureau."

"I can do that."

Suddenly the food on his plate seemed more appetizing than before. Shoveling piles of egg onto his fork, Will ate slowly and steered the direction of conversation into the topic of generic X-Files cases that had nothing to do with aliens.

-

Conquistador Motel

Will bade farewell to his newfound cousin before making his way to his motel room. He was exhausted – no, he was beyond exhausted. Although, he doubted he'd be able to sleep with so many thoughts running wild in his mind. Upen entering his motel room, he stopped abruptly at the sight of Brody sitting on the bed with her hands folded in her lap.

"I thought you might like to know what I found while reviewing the tape."

Nodding, Will shrugged off his jacket and threw it across the back of the nearest chair. He walked over to the bed, plopped down next to his partner and closed his eyes. Brody shifted off the bed, and he heard her walk to the other end of the room. He could really care less.

"Thanks to some very crafty computer geniuses, I was able to get a partial license plate number. Currently, the good men and women of Grosse Pointe PD are looking for cars registered under the make and model of the car with that partial plate. They said they should have an ID on the vehicle in several hours. I already talked with Sawyer Davies, and he's getting a SWAT team on standby and gathering a team to raid the house."

"That's good news."

"What did you do, Will?"

Sitting up on the bed, Will glanced over at Brody. Her back was flesh against the wall by the door and her arms were crossed over her chest. He noted the dark bags under her eyes, the lackluster color of her irises, the defeated stance.

"Nothing dealing with the case." He sighed. "Look, um, I want you to concentrate on Joshua Knopf and I'll concentrate on Jonah Parker."

"Wow, so you're acting like my direct superior now?"

"Brody, I'm the senior agent in this partnership."

"I didn't know that a two year age difference put you on a higher playing field than me," she snapped.

"I'm not playing the role of your direct superior. I have two more years field experience than you do so therefore I am the senior agent. You can do whatever the hell you want to. I'm not going to stop you, because this partnership is almost over with anyways."

"Fine. I'll focus on finding Joshua and you protect Jonah."

With that, Brody let herself out of the motel room. Will sat there, exhaustion residing heavily in his bones. Collapsing back onto the uncomfortable bed, he pulled a stiff pillow towards him and decided to rest for a few hours before going to see Jonah.

-

St. Clare's Pediatric Institute

12:56 P.M.

"What do you mean I can't see him?" snapped Will. "Whose orders?"

"I'm sorry, Sir," the frazzled secretary apologized, "an order from Washington said that you and your partner were not allowed access to Jonah Parker."

Will could feel his jaw tightening, the anger slowly bubbling up inside of him. Daphne. It had to have been Daphne who called Washington to deny him access. The bitch. The freakin' bitch. Will nodded curtly before making his way towards Jonah Parker's room. Some stupid order from Washington wasn't going to stop him from seeing Jonah, from protecting the boy. He had promised the kid, and he'd be damned if he let Daphne, Davies, or anyone for that matter make him break it.

The secretary called for him to stop, but he ignored her. He needed to see Jonah, needed to make sure the kid was all right because he had _promised_ to keep the kid safe. Before Will could get to Jonah's room, a dull buzzing filled his head. He could feel his heart pounding at the warning signs going off. Instead of going straight for Jonah's room, he veered off to the left to lure the Super Soldier away from the kid. Will stopped short as the Super Soldier stood in front of him with a cold mask covering his features.

Will ran as fast as his legs would allow, the Super Soldier not far behind him. Orderlies, doctors, nurses all faltered at the two men in the hospital. The buzzing in his head dully vibrated through his mind, the warning ringing loud and clear. Reaching the door to the back stairwell, Will wasn't fast enough at escaping. Strong hands gripped his collar and shoved him through the door with such force that he banged against the opposite wall.

"We've been looking for you for so long, William."

Looking up, his vision slightly distorted in an array of black dots, Will saw a burly man looming over him clad in military attire clothes. The man stood erect, arms crossed neatly behind his back, feet squared into the ground.

"All those years ago, we had no idea that we had actually caught you until you started to display your abilities. I wonder, William, why you don't use them now."

"I don't…" Will trailed off, a lump accumulating in the back of his throat, "I don't know what you're talking about."

His vision slowly cleared and the man became more focused. A military haircut, combat boots, dog tags, a name patch that read "WALSH". It felt like all the air had been kicked out of Will's lungs at the gleaming name, mocking him. It had to have been a coincidence.

"Let's play a game. I'll even give you a head start. You have two minutes to figure out how to make those dormant powers of yours come to surface or else I snap you in half like a pathetic twig. Sound fair?"

"I don't-"

"Starting now."

Will scrambled up, his eyes never leaving the Super Soldier in front of him. Instead of playing some sick game he had no idea how to play, Will clumsily ran for the stairs. Hands gripping the handrail, he concentrated on moving one foot in front of the other. His pulse was quickening, sweat smearing on his forehead. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

That's when the gunshot echoed in the stairwell. Bang! Boom! Will tripped over his feet, tumbling down a flight of stairs. It felt like critters were crawling under his skin, felt like his body was on fire. He crawled towards the other flight of stairs, his muscles protesting. Using the wall of leverage, Will managed to stand up on shaky legs.

"William! William!"

A male voice echoed through the enclosed space, vibrating in his already ringing ears. Will staggered on the stairwell, his vision blurring in front of him. Suddenly, his legs gave out from underneath him. His knees banged on the tiled floor, his hands shooting out to touch the cool ground. A sensation of vertigo was slowly overcoming him, swirling the colors around him into one big heap.

"William!" the man shouted again, closer than before.

"Mulder!" a female voice shouted from farther away. "Mulder!"

There were hands on his face tapping his cheek. Will was only vaguely aware that the man attempting to keep him awake was his biological father. Except, in that moment in time when nausea was overpowering him, he couldn't really comprehend what everything meant. Heels clicked loudly on the stairwell, growing closer and closer.

"Scully! Call 911!" his father shouted. "William, Buddy, can you hear me?"

Will groped around in front of him until he gripped his father's jacket. His fingers tightened around the fabric, his knuckles aching at the firm hold. The female voice – his mother – grew louder until it was directly by his ear. He could feel her soft touch on his neck and cheek. Then, everything went dark.

Notes - I'm terribly sorry about the long wait in-between episodes. Hopefully, this will not happen again. I've been majorly busy, but things are slowly calming down. Thanks to Carol for editing. Please leave a review.


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